


Level of Perception

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Altissia, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Decisions, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Caretaking, Childhood Trauma, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Game Spoilers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Heartbreak, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Oral Sex, Pining, Prophetic Dreams, Public Sex, Sickfic, Sleeping Together, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Bites, World of Ruin, how did I only just now tag it angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 132,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: There had been very little hope that it had been anything else, but there still had been asmallchance… no longer.The prince of Lucis was going to become a vampire.





	1. Chapter 1

> _"Change is hard at first, messy in the middle, and gorgeous in the end." - Robin Sharma_

His heart was beating as the pounding continued on his door. His grip tightened around either of his daggers, and his footfalls were silent against the carpeted floors. He had heard the alarms going off in the city. It meant that someone had broken past the Wall. It meant that a _vampire_ was in the streets of Insomnia. He was expecting the call to be deployed for the hunt; he was not expecting a visitor at his door.

He had fought actual vampires less times than he could count on one hand, but he’d be damned if a vampire would terrorize his own complex. Nevermind that, his _city_. He was going to protect this city, its people, its king, and its prince.

Taking a deep breath, Ignis curled his fingers around the doorknob and pulled the door open.

There was no imminent attack, which was just as well. By the barest thread of his willpower, he managed to hang onto his daggers when he felt his fingers go numb. Curious, that. He could feel the wave of desensitizing non-feeling rush over his entire body, locking him in place and freezing out his thoughts. “Noct…?”

The prince made a strangled noise, and then Ignis did drop his blades to sink down next to him.

Noctis was cowering in the doorway, dark hair falling to frame his face, and yet the starkest contrast of color was the bright, bright red streaked across the gray t-shirt he was wearing. Blood. Still fresh. Blood still rushing from a wound hidden beneath a hand clapped to his neck. Blood smeared across his face.

Ignis felt faint. He pushed it away and set to action.

“Noctis.” He took his chin in his hand and tilted his face up. Dilated pupils, frantic breathing. He gently turned his face to see to the wound on his neck. “Noct. Talk to me.” Noctis’s hand was warm and wet and slick, and Ignis held onto it even as he took in the puncture marks.

It had been building in his mind, in the few seconds since he’d opened the door. The alarms had been going off, and here was Noctis, covered in blood. He had been bitten, at the very least. But a further idea had begun to take root in his mind, and he was starting to doubt that he might be wrong. He _wanted_ to be wrong. By the Six, let him be wrong.

The noise that Noctis made did nothing to disprove his theory.

“Okay.” He pressed Noctis’s hand back to his neck, and leaned back to pull his own shirt up and over his head. He bunched it up against the bite mark, and tried to coax Noct to hold it there instead. “Just a moment longer, Noct.” He slipped his arms around him and hefted him up into his arms. He was grateful that his neighbors were not overtly concerned with the proceedings in the hallway. Perhaps the alarms were keeping them in their beds. “Let’s get you inside.”

He wondered if that counted as explicit permission. He figured it must have, when he carried the prince into his apartment and there was no adverse reaction. Maybe there was no reason to have one, but Ignis still had that bad feeling. There was… a lot of blood. And no real reason for it to be smeared across Noctis’s mouth unless he had been… fed.

If he had been fed, and been fed _upon_ , then…

Ignis was suddenly struck with the urge to encircle his fingers around Noctis’s wrist, to feel at the pulse fluttering there. It was still there– too fast but there. And he aware that just because it was did not mean anything. Transformations took time, and Noct would have only just been… attacked. He would retain a pulse, anyway.

He didn’t _want_ to think about it, let alone believe it, but there truly was little chance that the prince of Lucis _hadn’t_ been subjected to a ritualistic turning. He was, likely, going to become a vampire.

And he was sheltering him in his home.

For the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Noctis was still bleeding, and breathing hard, and likely in a considerable amount of pain. Ignis could imagine. Or, actually, he didn’t have to. He had been bitten once before. He carried the prince straight into his bed and laid him down gently. “Hang in there, Noct, you’re doing fine.” It was into the bathroom next, wrenching open the cabinets. A bowl for water, clean cloths, antiseptic, and the surgical suture kit.

“Highness. Noct.” Water splashed over the side of the bowl onto the nightstand as he set it down. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. He couldn’t let his hands shake. _Focus._ “Stay with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Noctis made a noise, but Ignis still wasn’t sure if he was hearing him. He couldn’t hesitate any longer to see, either.

It felt like it took too long to get the bleeding to stop. A glance at the clock signaled that it hadn’t taken much time at all, but the cloths were stained and so were his sheets. Noctis was pale. Ignis brushed a hand against his jaw, and rubbed away some of the blood around his mouth. He mumbled something in his half awake state; eyes open and staring into the middle distance. He was likely in shock. The blood loss hadn’t helped, either, he was certain. He needed to get this wound stitched up.

“I have a general anaesthetic, but I’m afraid this is still going to hurt.” Foregoing the rest of the blood on his face, he gently brushed a piece of hair from his eyes instead. “Try to relax. It’ll be over soon.”

He’d used the suture kit once before, on himself. He had practised enough to be confident enough at it, but that didn’t allay the nerves. He took a deep breath and reached for the kit.

 

 

Perhaps Noctis wasn’t aware enough of what was happening to react to the pain, or maybe he just didn’t feel it. Either way, the reaction wasn’t as severe as Ignis had expected and for that, he was grateful. The few whimpers he had gotten had been bad enough.

“Sleep now, Highness,” he murmured, having made quick work of removing Noctis’s ruined clothing and scrubbing the blood from his skin. “You can rest now. I’m here if you need me.”

Noctis mumbled in reply, but it was lost in either exhaustion or shock or… whatever he was experiencing that Ignis couldn’t know. His eyes had slipped closed, though, so maybe he could still listen. He hoped he could, and that he would be able to get some rest.

So he tucked the blankets up around him securely and gathered up the mess he’d strewn across the bedroom, taking things one by one back into the bathroom. Then he washed the blood off his hands and arms and turned off the lights in the house. Yes, hopefully Noct would sleep soundly.

His daggers were still on the floor in the hallway. He painstakingly bent down to collect them, and take them with him back to the bedroom where he would keep vigil and hope he didn’t need to use them in the near future. He realized, belatedly, just then, that he had never even locked the door.

If the vampire they were looking for had been the one to attack the prince, it had likely already fled after acquiring the blood of its target. If the vampire they were looking for was, likely unbeknownst to them, the prince himself, then… Ignis had already made his decision.

He turned the lock on the door.

He shouldn’t keep it a secret, that Noctis had shown up at his door, covered in blood and a victim of a vampire attack. It would affect the whole of Lucis. But… not yet. He couldn’t, yet. The consequences were too large, and Noctis… Noctis hadn’t asked for this. He _had_ come to him, though; duty to the crown be damned, Ignis would tend Noctis until he knew more, and he would keep the secret even if it wasn’t in their best interests to keep it until then.

Ignis leaned forward, forehead falling against the cool interior of the door. His fingertips pressed lightly against the wood. He could still feel the sensation of Noctis’s blood on his hands. He could still see the gleam of fangs and glowing eyes in his nightmares.

He took another deep breath and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a vamp AU rp that I used to be a part of... I still love vamp AUs... this is going to be a slow burn... I mean... slow... buckle up
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO I've a few chapters ahead of what gets posted, but if you have any idea of what you want to see the future, feel free to let me know :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is human... for now.

“… Ignis…?”

He startled out of his uncomfortable doze, and was on his feet even before he was wholly awake. Clearing the distance between him and the bed, and the prince curled into it, was much more important. “Noct. How are you feeling?”

Dark eyes looked up at him, dark hair in his face, swathed in rolls of the bloodied blankets pulled up close to his chin. “… like hell,” he mumbled, and his body seemed to constrict upon itself. He curled up tighter, seeming to vanish further beneath the blankets.

Ignis watched for a moment, and then poured a glass of water from the pitcher he had set out. “Drink this, Highness.”

Normally, a complaint might have been forthcoming. Now, as it stood, Noctis only took a few seconds too long before he moved to follow the command. The blankets fell away to reveal the bruises that were just now showing up on his torso. There had been no other injuries deep enough to require stitches, which was just as well, but Ignis had known there would be more damage than he had been able to assess last night.

Noctis drank the entire glass of water and then sank back into the pillows, one hand pressed gingerly against his rib cage before moving to the gauze taped to his neck.

Ignis stopped him when he started to peel it away. “Don’t. I gave you stitches.”

The prince’s fingers stilled. And his gaze was suddenly so distant, so removed, that Ignis had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder as if to see what Noctis was seeing. Instead, softly “I need to know what happened last night, Noct. Anything you can remember”.

“I remember it all,” he murmured, and then his eyes locked back onto Ignis’s. For a moment, they looked terrified and more vulnerable than Ignis had ever seen. Then it was gone, and he was shifting beneath the blankets. “Sorry for showing up, I… I didn’t know where else to go and I figured you wouldn’t kill me on sight.”

“Certainly not.”

Noct gave a quick, tiny quirk of his lips. “I snuck out… last night. Was gonna go to Prompto’s but then the alarms started going off… then next thing I remember was being knocked down. I tried… what’s the power of kings if you can’t use it, but I’m not… I’m not like you.”

Ignis nodded. One of the points of the prince having a retinue was so that he didn’t have to undergo rigorous vampire hunting training himself. He would never be a hunter; he would, one day, be king instead. Basic self-defense was part of his royal training, but not to the degree he and Gladio had gone through. They had an upper hand against vampires, and were assigned to Noctis to protect him from such.

They had failed.

His palms were clammy, and Noct had barely even begun his story.

“There was just…” His fingers pressed a little against the gauze. “They’ve got really long fangs.” He laughed, once, self-deprecating. “You already know that, though, you fight them for a living.” He swallowed, and then continued. “… I was bled, and bled on, so…” Another swallow. He looked like he was going to be sick. “How– How long?”

“Noctis…”

“How long until I change?”’

“… A week at the earliest.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Three at most. Are you _positive_ –”

“I’m sure,” Noctis interrupted. “I’m sure…”

It felt like the invisible thread that had been keeping him going all night snapped; it was all he could do to keep his shoulders from slumping or to put his head in his hands. There had been very little hope that it had been anything else, but there still had been a _small_ chance… no longer. The prince of Lucis was going to become a vampire.

The very thing Ignis had taken an oath to protect the kingdom from.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

If Ignis thought Noctis had sounded broken before this, he had been sorely mistaken. That was the reason _he_ couldn’t go to pieces himself, no matter how upset he was. The prince was _actually_ going to turn and the reality was only just setting in.

Ignis weighed their options. There weren’t many. “I have to tell the king.”

“What– not a chance!”

“I don’t like it any more than you, but your presence cannot go unexplained for upwards of three weeks,” he said. “Nevermind the adjustments you’ll have to make afterwards.”

“Adjust…” Noct paused, and then his shoulders slumped, too. “Iggy…”

“We will manage,” he interrupted.

“How.”

“I…” _don’t know_. “We’ll talk to the king and–”

“He kills vampires,” Noctis retorted. “So do _you_. I’m going– I’m going to become the thing everyone is meant to _kill_ –” He dragged the blankets closer, hand jerking away from the bite on his neck.

“No one is going to kill you.”

“Why not?” he shot back. “I’m a… I’m going to be a vampire, you have to kill them to protect the kingdom!”

“Not from its _prince_.”

“I’m not going to be the same…” he trailed off, and Ignis followed his gaze to the twin daggers lying next to the chair Ignis had just vacated. “Oh.”

“Highness.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, you’re…”

“It’s just a precaution.”

“No, you’re right. You know all about this.”

“I wouldn’t act without reason, Noct. You know that.” He had come to him last night, instead of going to Prompto or Gladio, or his father or anyone in the Citadel. It really was just a precaution; newly turned subjects were always a gamble, even before the transformation began. He would never hurt him. Perhaps even _given_ cause.

“You’ve killed vamps without reason before.”

“That’s…” Ignis tried not to grimace. “… different.”

“Because I’m the prince.”

“Because you’re my friend. Noct, I’m not going to _hurt_ you.”

“But you’re supposed to, now.”

“I know. But I’m not.” Gods help him. But it truly wasn’t as simple as that; even if he _wasn’t_ the prince, he _still_ wouldn’t have been able to hunt him. “And I won’t. But we do need to tell your father. It’s not… something we can hide.”

The response was a first a sigh that trembled, and then words to follow. “Fine, just… later?” he murmured.

“Today.”

“Yeah, I know…” He hunkered down a little more in the blankets, and Ignis was struck with the urge to tuck him back in and let him sleep for awhile longer.

He would, actually. There was a world of pain coming for the prince. Ignis couldn’t stop it. What use was he, if he couldn’t? He could do this, he supposed, gently nudging Noctis down proper into the pillows and blankets, folding the bloodied edges back so he didn’t have to see them. “Rest for now, Noct. We will figure this out.”

“I guess.”

“We will,” Ignis repeated, reaching over to smooth down a curling edge of the tape securing the gauze. He must have imagined when it felt like Noctis’s eyes tracked the movement of his wrist for the duration of motion, surely.

“… Thanks,” Noctis murmured, rolling over onto his side. Putting his back to Ignis. “… Still don’t know what I’d do without you, Specs.”

 _I daresay not much at all, at this point._ “You’d manage,” he said instead, and made sure the curtains were drawn before leaving the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Noct loses his humanity.

_“Scientia. Can you report in?”_

Ignis’s fingers tightened around his phone.

Several days had gone by.

The king had been told. Ignis had apologized and excused himself to let him speak alone with his son. He hadn’t known how the conversation had gone. He didn’t want to know. Neither man had been happy when Regis had come out from the bedroom, and Ignis had felt an odd sense of trepidation never felt before as he had asked to speak with him.

He had started to apologize again, but the king had stopped him with a raised hand and a weary smile. He had told him that it wasn’t his fault, that he should be commended for protecting him afterwards. Ignis hadn’t agreed, and still didn’t, but had said nothing. And then Regis had pleaded with him to see him through the transformation, and then to get him out of the city. It had already become unsafe for him. Regis claimed it was his fault for not being able to maintain the Wall, but it would become even more dangerous if word got out the prince had been turned. Therefore, it must remain a secret and to protect both Noctis and the city from a newly turned vampire, it would be best to leave Insomnia for a time.

Ignis’s head had still been reeling when the king had left. Leave… the Crown City? Take the prince and run? He… would do it, if it would protect Noctis. If he made it through the transformation… when he made it through the transformation. It still didn’t feel right, but… it wasn’t his place to ask questions.

He had since been told that Lady Lunafreya had been made aware of the… circumstances. Only her, and a select few within the king’s circle– people they would meet along the way. Ignis was to take Noctis to Altissia to rendezvous with his intended. Their upcoming nuptials, however, would have to be put on hold. It would still serve as a good excuse, the prince going to see his betrothed. No one would ask questions.

Gladio would also be told, when the time came to leave. No sooner. His reaction would likely be… more expressive than Ignis’s. He, out of the two of them, was always the one more involved in hunting. Further, if Noctis agreed, Prompto would be told as well. _That_ would have to be handled delicately; he wasn’t a hunter, and wasn’t as acquainted with vampirism as well as Ignis or Gladio were.

They would likely all leave together, provided the two of them would go. Ignis, despite any misgivings that might come up, was certain they would.

_“We need you for a hunt outside of the Wall. Have to track this damn bloodsucker that got into the town the other day.”_

Ignis closed his eyes briefly, and then grasped at his resolve and responded. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to. Amicitia should be available, however.”

_“Understood. Stay safe.”_

“Stay safe,” Ignis echoed, and ended the call just as Noctis came into the room.

“Who was that?”

“No one of consequence.” He put his phone back on the table. “Did Prompto buy your excuse?” He had been texting, a lot. His unexplained absence had garnered some attention, mostly from Prompto and Gladio themselves. So had Ignis’s absence, for that matter. They had to be very careful on what they said in response.

“Yeah, intensive training. Me and you. Prompto believed it. Not sure about Gladio, though.”

“I think Gladio’s going to be busy, so he won’t have time to ask.”

“I don’t know why we can’t tell them now,” Noctis muttered, dropping onto the couch. “If they’re going to go with us, shouldn’t we tell them sooner than later?”

“No. The less anyone knows, the better.” He didn’t exactly like keeping them in the dark, but they would know soon enough.

“Yeah, but you know that they wouldn’t say any–” He suddenly cringed hard enough that it looked like someone had physically hit him, and apprehension washed over Ignis so fast that it made him feel sick.

“Noct?” He rounded the couch and stooped to look into his eyes.

“I’m…” He looked a little dazed. “I’m okay.”

“Tell me what’s happening.” He reached down to feel the pulse in his neck. Racing again. When he pulled his arm away, Noctis’s eyes were closed. “Highness.”

“I’ve been achy since I came here, but that’s… it’s getting worse,” he said hoarsely. “Really worse.” He opened his eyes, and Ignis hated what he saw there. Helplessness, something that Noctis had been trying to hide since he’d come here.

“I’ll get you through it,” he said quickly. His hand was still against his neck. The one that had gone in for the pulse had stayed in a near caress against his throat, a brush of the pad of his thumb against the soft skin. What was he doing? It quickly slid down to squeeze at Noctis’s shoulder instead. “We’ll be fine. _You’ll_ be fine. I promise.”

It was a fool’s promise.

But it made Noct smile weakly and make a quip about his loyalty, and that helped to persuade Ignis to let Noctis stay on the sofa until he had made dinner for him. Then he was coaxing him back to bed, watching him carefully for any further signs of the transformation while he tucked him in.

Noctis’s sleep was fitful, and Ignis barely slept at all.

 

 

The pain came first. Throughout the next two days, Noctis either slept to avoid the pain or was woken by it. Ignis slept when he did and dutifully made him meals in the in between. They played King’s Knight and Noctis relayed the entire plot of Assassin’s Creed II when Ignis asked about it. He thought both of those things would keep Noct’s mind off of it. They did, for awhile.

That evening, when Ignis hadn’t been watching him, Noct had planted himself at the window and twitched the curtains back. _“Just testing,”_ he had said, rubbing at a small, red mark on his cheek. His eyes were teary, but Ignis wasn't certain it was because of the pain. It was the next day that Ignis realized just how thin his curtains really were, and it was also the day that Noctis lost his appetite.

In a manner of speaking, that was.

“Is the pain getting worse?” Ignis asked. He was dutifully making lunch, both for himself as well as Noct in case he wanted anything. Maintaining the usual routine was… strange. He still wasn’t used to the prince’s presence in his home.

“I dunno.”

That was helpful. Ignis sighed, putting down the spoon. “Let me know when it does.” He pulled out two cans from the fridge, one of soda and one of Ebony.

“Yeah, I kn–” He reeled back from Ignis as he set the can down, a hand flying to his mouth. The movement was– again– so quick that it made Ignis tense; it wasn't the kind of motion that he would expect from Noctis. Not to mention that it wasn't really a normal reaction at all.

“Noct?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, although he didn't lower his hand from his mouth.

“That wasn’t nothing. Are you…”

“I can just… sort of…” he trailed off. “I can kinda smell you,”  he mumbled, turning his head away.

Oh. That could only mean one thing. “My blood,” he clarified.

“Sort of...?” Noct said quietly. “I'm not sure if it's exactly that but something is… off. It's not bad, but it's not… normal.”

Well. That explained why he wasn't hungry, Ignis supposed. Or at least, why he wasn't hungry for the food Ignis was cooking. The only thing Noctis was going to want here on out would be, likely… _him._ That was great. At least he knew what to expect. If the hunger was starting to kick in, the transformation was going to be in full swing soon. Likely, Noctis wouldn't be able to have a coherent conversation with him soon.

He sighed. “You're going to start to experience the full effects of the transformation,” he explained, “and you're going to want to feed.”

“Figured that, thanks…”

“Try to eat lunch, at least. If you can.” He went back to the stove. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“Right…”

“Don't worry, Highness. We have it under control.”

“Meaning you have blood ready for me so that I don't attack you afterwards.”

“Meaning we have blood ready for you so that you don't feel the need to attack.”

Nevermind that he would probably want to attack anyway, but Ignis didn't feel inclined to say that just then. Newly turned vampires were unpredictable. Everyone knew that.

“Have some lunch,” he repeated. “You may feel better after you eat.”

They both knew that he wouldn't but, again, he didn't feel the need to say.

 

 

“No, no, no.” Ignis rushed forward, snatching Noctis’s wrists from the air and wrapping his fingers around them. “It’s okay, I haven’t gone anywhere.” He hadn’t been willing to leave him alone since he’d started mumbling in his sleep; he hadn’t woken up coherent since that had started. The tossing and turning had come quickly, and just as quickly turned to thrashing. He was going to hurt himself at this rate. There was nothing for it, Ignis thought, trying to pin his wrists to the mattress while simultaneously brushing his hair out of his face. Noctis was going to outstrip him in strength regardless, and tying him down would be just as futile. He’d break through any restraints. “Breathe, Noct, just breathe.”

He had _not_ been at a turning before. He had seen people who _had_ turned, the aftermath of it, but he’d never experienced it as it happened. It was terrifying. Noct was awake but not aware, and Ignis found a little bit of his panic starting to leech out into the open. He couldn’t take care of Noctis like this and maintain his composure.

… He should have let someone who knew what they were doing tend to him, but he also couldn’t imagine letting the prince of Lucis in anyone else’s hands.

The noise that came from Noctis’s mouth was _horrible_ ; it sounded like a whimper, at first, and then… more animalistic. It tore a path straight down Ignis’s spine, drew goosebumps up on his skin. He was back on the battlefield, covered in blood, metal clanging over the hissing and growling– then he shook his head and tried to focus on Noctis.

Just Noctis. The same old Noctis. He’d been with him since he was six years old. Before he had even understood what royalty was, really, before he understood who _Noctis_ was. Just because this was happening… things would be different, but they didn’t have to be… like _that_. He wouldn’t be like those vampires he’d fought on occasion. He wouldn’t be like the vampires that had attacked–

A bare foot connected with his ribs, and Ignis went staggering back with a gasp.

He wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. He just wasn’t _aware_ –

“Noctis!” Sucking in a wheezing breath, he surged forward again. His eyes were watering. Those ribs were bruised, at least. Maybe cracked, given Noctis’s uptick in strength and element of surprise. “Noctis. Noctis!” He caught one of Noctis’s flailing arms and narrowly avoiding another blow towards his stomach. He braced a hip against the mattress, and struggled to catch his other arm. “Listen to me. It’s just– _me_.”

He really was going to hurt himself, or hurt Ignis. The latter he could deal with, but the former…

A knee to his hip and the scrape of fingernails along his arm. Ignis grunted and let instinct take over; logic could only get him so far and he’d been taught to sometimes abandon it. He swung his weight up onto the bed and over Noctis, trapping his thighs between his knees and his fingers with his. Sat back on his knees to stop him from struggling, and tried to ignore the rush of horrified adrenaline in his veins. This was bad enough for him. He didn’t want to know what it was like for the prince.

He also knew that, in being frightened, he was making himself that much more of a target, and making it even harder for Noctis to resist _his_ instincts. It was out of his control, now. No turning back.

Noctis made the noise that wasn’t quite a growl again. His back arched off the bed, and then sagged into the mattress. When he didn’t start to struggle again, Ignis slowly removed his hands from Noctis’s, leaving them to curl into loose fists on his pillow. Still no reaction. He blew out a breath through his teeth and pressed his hand to Noctis’s forehead. He was still warm, skin glistening with a thin film of sweat, hair plastered against skin that was too pale. Maybe the worst of it was over. Or maybe it had only just begun.

He thumbed those locks of dark hair from his face. “Rest now, love, you’ll be through this soon.”

_Love?_

Ignis sat back quickly enough that he felt dizzy himself. A lack of sleep, and an overabundance of worry, surely. _Love?_ How had that slipped out? He… He needed to sleep. Or, barring that, another can of Ebony to keep himself going. Slips of the tongue like that could not happen. Those emotions _could not_ happen. They had to stay masked beneath friendship and loyalty to the crown.

 _Especially_ now.

He was suddenly very aware of the position he was in, physically. And how hot his face had become. He scrubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead and very gingerly rolled to the other side of the bed. Planted both hands on the mattress and breathed out slowly.

It had been a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /SLAMS HOUSEKEEPING SIGN ON DOOR
> 
> just a few notes: this takes place a little before the events of Kingsglaive/the beginning of FFXV. the peace treaty isn't a thing (yet). the Kingsglaive is still there, Niflheim still has MTs, etc etc. the universe is (mostly) exactly the same, just with vampires and hunters, and a little ahead of time. it'll get back on track. the things that ARE different will be explained in due time.
> 
> also shout out to Maso for helping me pick a term of endearment for Iggy to use despite both of us struggling to see him using them at all but I needed something so LOL


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood.

“Ig–”

He jolted awake, immediately smoothing his hand along Noctis’s arm. “Right here.” It was going on thirty-five hours strong since Noct had stopped speaking to him coherently. Thirty-five hours since the turning had begun in earnest, in varying amounts of distress throughout.

Ignis was… exhausted. He’d also gone back to being curiously numb, falling into unfeeling when Noctis was actually sleeping. Probably because he had the time to think, and remember what was actually happening: a vampire. Noctis was becoming a vampire. The man he’d been protecting since they were kids, the man that had become one of his very best friends. Now someone he was… by all rights, meant to destroy. That was going to stick with him for awhile.

He didn’t regret inviting him in, though. _That_ , he would never do. His loyalty, on that front, would never change.

“Oh God,” Noct rasped, and Ignis perked up a little more. It sounded slightly more aware.

“You with me, Noct?” He pushed himself up the rest of the way, leaning over him. He’d given in to sharing a bed with the prince, falling into an uneasy sleep with a hand lightly resting over Noctis’s. If he had moved, he would have been woken up. He was a light sleeper. That was the only reason.

“Y–Yeah…”

_Thank the Gods._

“God, I… my body…” Noctis’s voice broke, and he squirmed out of reach of Ignis’s hand. “… feel like ‘m on fire,” he groaned.

Maybe the worst really _was_ over. “You’ve been through a lot.” His hand went back to Noctis’s cheek, and he flinched, too, when Noctis cringed at the touch. He pulled that hand back in favor of potentially not losing it.

“Oh God–”

“Talk to me, Noct.” _While you’re conscious enough to._ “How’s the pain?”

“Not that… just… dunno.” He squirmed again, scrubbing his hands against his face. “Just… a lot. You’re…” He waved a hand, and winced again.

Ignis sat back, folding his hands in his lap. “You need to feed.”

“No!”

“Noctis.”

“No– I’m not– still _feel_ human.”

“Except you’re hungry.” No. “Thirsty,” he amended, and swung his legs off the bed. “You need to feed, especially now. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He hadn’t been lying earlier; the king _had_ had blood sent over and Ignis had been spending the past few days trying to get around the fact he had blood in the fridge. But how did you… it wasn’t like blood from a bag came from a viable host. No biting was necessary. Could you prepare blood for a vampire? He wondered. Really, it wasn’t something he’d thought he’d ever have to think about.

Simple was probably best, right now. Noctis wasn’t going to be able to hold out, whatever he said, and Ignis would rather not wait until _later_. It would only raise more problems.

His stomach still turned as he drained the blood out into a thermos. It was definitely going to take some getting used to, for _all_ of them. And they would need to see about procuring blood once they were in Altissia…

“Please tell me that’s chicken soup.”

Ignis cracked a smile– then realized it was the first time he’d smiled genuinely in days. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t quite hit the spot,” he said, untwisting the cap.

“Why couldn– _fuck_.”

He looked up, immediate reaction leaning towards chastisement and then the now usual wariness. Noct had jerked up– must be able to smell the blood already, of course he could– one hand flat against the headboard as though poised to fling himself from the bed, one hand twisted into the blankets like he was holding himself back.

Ignis squared his shoulders and stepped forward. “No need, Noct.” He held out the thermos. “It’s here for you.”

“I… know,” Noctis ground out. Like each word was physically painful. “I…” His fingers twitched from the blankets, and Ignis pressed the thermos into his hand before he could react any further.

“Drink,” he said softly, and took a step back.

He supposed he needn’t have worried; Noctis’s instincts _would_ have won out with blood less than a foot away. And they did. Noct swiped the thermos and brought it up to his mouth and gulped at it like a man dying of thirst and that… was not entirely out of the realm of reason. The next test, as it were, would be how Noctis reacted _after_ finishing off the blood provided.

Ignis stayed his short distance away, twisting the silver ring he was wearing around his little finger.

If the transformation was complete– and given that Noct was literally _drinking blood from a thermos_ , it seemed to have taken– Gladio and Prompto would be told. And then… Altissia, until Noct was more stable. All three of them taking care of a newly-turned vampire. Still their prince, just… different.

He couldn’t sugarcoat it. It was going to be difficult. But they’d been through alot, together and separately. They would do fine.

… Hopefully.

“U–U–” Noctis made another noise akin to the ones during the past day and a half, the same kind of noise that put the hair up on the back of Ignis’s neck. The thermos bounced, empty, to the floor; Ignis stopped himself from either cringing or lunging forward to grab it as it fell. “I– I’m, God, I’m gonna puke.” His voice was muffled from a hand at his mouth. “Nghhhh, I– f– d– damn…” He leaned forward, burying his face in his knees.

He didn’t ask if he was okay. Carefully, he stepped forward and picked up the thermos, plucking a few tissues from the box to clean up the splattered blood from the floor. All in all, not a bad first feeding… he guessed, anyway.

“Noct,” he said, straightening up. “What can I do?”

“Dunno.” The prince wouldn’t raise head. “Maybe…” his voice trailed off into a mumble.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“… s’ cold… the blood,” he mumbled. “Maybe not cold.”

“Ah.” Of course. Most vampires– all, likely, as Ignis didn’t know a vampire who didn’t, fed straight from the source. A human, or an animal. Something that was alive, or that had been recently. A source where blood would still be warm. He hadn’t been thinking. “It… hadn’t crossed my mind. I apologize.”

Another mumble, and another ask for clarification.

“I liked it, anyway,” Noct blurted, and then cringed at his own words. “I… liked it anyway…” His arms, wrapped around his knees, tightened. “What the hell…”

He was, again, at a loss for words of comfort. Saying that it was in his nature, or that that had been the point, or that he shouldn’t be ashamed of who he was now… all felt very hypocritical, given who he was and what he did. And besides, he didn’t think they would go over very well right now, anyway.

Noctis was saying something into his knees again, and Ignis couldn’t help but sigh. “Noct, you’re mumbling.”

“Well, I can’t talk with–” Noctis’s head jerked up and for an instant, there was the white flash of fangs before his hand jerked up to cover them. “– these fangs!”

That would _continually_ be jarring. Ignis could close his eyes and think back and he could still a white flash of teeth tearing into flesh before him, before his uncle scooped him up in his arms and fled the house–

“Oh.” Noctis’s voice was quiet, and drew Ignis out of his daydreams. “You’re scared of me.”

His heart continued to wrench. There was no easy explanation, and Noctis couldn’t know the deeper reasoning. “No,” he said firmly. He willfully tried to urge his heart to stop pounding so quickly. Fear made an easy target. Vampires could tell.

“I’d be scared of me too,” Noct muttered, rubbing his knuckles against his mouth. “I _am_ scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of _you_.” That really wasn’t a complete lie. “You’re still the prince, and one of my dearest friends. So you’ll be more tired during the day. That’s barely a change from the usual,” he added, and smiled when it got a chuckle out of him. “I daresay I won’t even notice.”

Another huff of muffled laughter. “At least now I have reason to sleep until late– mmgh.”

Whether he was vampire or human, Ignis had been with the prince long enough to be able to read him, and a critical glance was followed by statement instead of question. “You’re still in pain.”

“Yeah…” He sat back, dropping back into the pillows again. He failed to drop his hand to show off his fangs any more. Ignis was secretly grateful. Baby steps, both of them. “Just… like fire beneath my skin. And pain…” A glance towards Ignis. “It’s not over yet, is it?”

“Evidently not.” The fire beneath his skin was probably the thirst, and it would be hard to quench the first few weeks. If not months. But the pain was still indicative of the change. “Soon,” he said. “The worst is over, Noct. You’ve made it.”

Noctis smiled wryly, and buried his face in the blankets. “Worst is just beginning, huh?”

“Take it slowly.” That advice sounded poor as well. “For now, rest. It _is_ morning, and the past two days have been hard on you.”

“You, too.” Ignis was surprised at the next words. “I only remember… not much of it at all, but I remember you and…” He curled up tighter. “You should sleep too. Gotta be tired.”

“Oh, you know me. I get by.”

He wouldn’t have much choice in the matter, now. He _hadn’t_ slept well the past few days. Even before Noct had starting to change, he’d been awake most of the night on the sofa. Noctis had said it was probably _because_ he was on the sofa, and had tried to get Ignis to let _him_ sleep there. He’d fallen asleep there once, actually, and Ignis had carried him into to bed anyway. Not in good conscience, that, letting the prince sleep on his couch.

Not in particularly good conscience sharing a bed with him, either. Noct would say they’d done it all the time when they were kids. But times were different. However… even if Ignis was tired and stressed and still wary about Noctis’s state of predictability– or lack thereof– he knew he’d be sleeping well tonight, whether he wanted to or not.

“Seriously, Specs… sleep.”

Ignis nodded. “Right. I will. I’m just going to wash up first. Rest assured I’ll join you soon.”

“Sure… … thanks,” Noctis mumbled.

“Any time.”

Or not, as he hoped to never have to do this again. But he still had yet to regret helping him, and he didn’t think he would any time soon.

Noctis was already asleep when Ignis joined him back in the bedroom. He was pale, and his breathing was slow. Ignis had to remind himself _not_ to try and check his pulse lest he end up startling him into attack. Later, when things had settled down more, when things weren’t so unpredictable.

Ignis, despite his misgivings, fell asleep mere moments after setting his glasses on the nightstand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Departure

“Why weren’t we _told?_ ”

“It was the king’s decision. The less people–”

“We’re his retainers, Iggy, not _people_.”

“I mean, we’re still people…”

“The king was the only person I told, and he instructed me to keep it a secret until Noct turned.”

“And he’s… he’s finished turning? Like… he’s okay?”

“He’s a _vampire_ , what do you think?”

“Well, I dunno! Maybe he’s good vampires or something!”

“Have you ever _met_ a good vampire?”

“ _Needless_ to say,” Ignis interrupted, and Gladio and Prompto looked back at him, “the king wants him out of town for his own safety, so we’re to go to Altissia. That is, if you’ll come with us.”

“And you’re going?” Gladio said, looking at him critically.

Ignis had known that Gladio wouldn’t take it well. Noctis was still Noctis, but Gladio was one of the best hunters their age. He’d taken out more vampires than Ignis could count, mostly because he had stopped trying to keep track of the ones Gladio dispelled on missions outside of his own. He was very vocal as a hunter, too. Noct changing would come not only as a surprise, but a betrayal.

He nodded. “He needs us now more than ever, Gladio.”

“You really trust being in a car with a newly turned vamp.”

 _I’ve been sleeping in the same bed with a newly turned vamp_ , he thought dryly, but was saved a response from a raised voice inside his apartment.

“I can _hear_ you all, you know.”

Right. His hearing had improved. Ignis pushed away the flicker of guilt and shared a look with the other two.

“Well, at least he still _sounds_ like himself,” Gladio said, and followed Ignis back into the hallway.

“Yeah! Still the same old Noct,” Prompto said brightly. He was taking it surprisingly well. “I mean, he sleeps during the day anyway.”

Ignis chuckled. Things were starting to feel normal again. “I said the same thing,” he said, casting a sideways glance at the blonde.

“I can _really_ hear you,” Noct complained, but he still hadn’t moved from where he’d been sat on the sofa.

Gladio and Prompto would be the first two humans, outside of Ignis and Regis, to visit since he had fully turned. It would go well, Ignis was certain. He’d been doing well so far. Regular feedings– blood, heated on the stovetop now– was helping to smooth the transition along, he suspected. It would be harder when they were on the road, but the prince couldn’t hide out in his advisor’s home for the rest of his life. Getting him away from city walls for a while would do good, and then re-introducing him back to the population would be the next step.

“Heyyya Noct!” Prompto waved, but Ignis had warned him to keep a short distance from the sofa– just in case– and he stayed there. “Long time no see! How was your… ‘training’?”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “It hurt.” A glance to Ignis, and then his eyes slid back to Prompto. “You can come over, I’m… fine.”

He had fed immediately before their visit, but neither of them said.

“Go slow,” Ignis advised, and it seemed like that was all he was saying lately. He vaguely wondered how long it would take for all four of them to stop being jumpy. Probably a while.

“Uh huh.” Prompto nodded and went over to sit on the edge of Ignis’s coffee table. That was a little surprising, honestly. He had expected him to be more wary, being uninvolved in vampire exploits. His cheerfulness was a little hesitant, but not forced. “Is… this okay?”

“Yeah.”

Ignis looked to Gladio. There was a long, hard look back. _We need to find a way to deal with this,_ he wanted to say. _He’s still our prince_. Gladio knew that. He had every right to be hesitant. If Ignis hadn’t sat through the entire turning with him, seen his body contorted in pain or heard the noises ripped from his throat or watched him physically hold himself back from lunging forward to take the blood at any given feeding… he’d be, too. As it stood, yes, he was still wary as was going to be expected, but no, he didn’t distrust Noctis’s _intentions_ and he _still_ didn’t regret going through this with him.

“So, uh, can you smell me?”

“Why, didn’t you take a shower this morning?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant!”

“His blood,” Gladio said, dropping Ignis’s gaze and striding over to the others. “Can you smell his blood.”

“I know.” Noct flicked his gaze up to him. “And… yeah. All of yours…”

“Yeah? What’s it smell like? Who’s smells the best?”

Ignis recognized what he was doing: vampires were much more prone to attacking if provoked, but it was still so _soon_. “Gladio.”

Noctis continued to look up at him balefully. “I’m not going to attack you.”

“You say that now.”

“Hey big guy, maybe lay off him for now…”

“I’m not, I…” Noct seemed to struggle for words. “I wouldn’t. If I can help it. A vampire’s familiar killed mom and he ordered it, I don’t want to be like that and… if I am… I want you to take care of it. Of me… if I do something…”

“I’m certain it won’t come to that,” Ignis said, stepping forward. “But that’s why we’re leaving Lucis, to give you some time and space. And, once you’re ready, Lady Lunafreya has agreed to host you until you are ready to return. She’s thrilled at the prospect of seeing you again, I’ve heard.”

Despite the situation, Noctis still had it in himself to curl in on himself a bit in embarrassment.

“Hey, yeah, you finally get to see your princess after all this time!” Prompto shoved at Noctis’s knee, and quickly all three of them were aware of Noctis stiffening from the touch. “Uh…”

“It’s fine,” he repeated, although his voice was only slightly more terse than before. Prompto probably wouldn’t even notice, but Ignis did.

“Yes, let’s save that for later,” he interrupted, gesturing Gladio into a chair. “We should talk about our itinerary in the meantime.”

Baby steps, he continued to think. For all four of them, now.

 

 

They left just after sundown, four days later.

Noct looked exhausted, tugging a baseball cap down further over his head even though the sun’s ray weren’t hitting them on the citadel stairs. It was just dark enough not to bother his exposed skin, but light enough to disorient, perhaps? Or he just wasn’t enjoying being awake at this hour.

“You’ve got blood, right?”

Ignis stood a short way from Noctis and Regis as they spoke, Gladio and Prompto at his side. “Yes. We’ll have enough for some time, but it’s up to him when he thinks he can go into town.”

“And where are we supposed to _get_ blood in the meantime?”

“Cid, from Hammerhead. The king said that we can rely on him, if need be. That’s where we’re headed for now, anyway.”

Gladio hummed a noise of assent. He was likely still less thrilled than the rest of them, but Ignis had overheard the conversation that he’d had with Noctis. _“I’m still your shield. If that means protecting you from yourself… I will. Don’t make me have to, Noct.”_ And Noctis, as he was… had agreed wholeheartedly.

Ignis didn’t want to think about what would happen if the prince lost himself to the bloodlust. He already knew the answer, but that didn’t mean he wanted to think about it.

Their farewells were said. Ignis swore to the king to protect his son, without so many words, and tapped Noctis’s shoulder as they turned to the car. “Up front, Noct?”

Gladio had been right, though. The car was even more enclosed than the apartment. He figured that Noctis had had this time to get used to his scent, as much as he could, so sitting up front was probably for the best.

“We’ll keep the top up until it’s fully dark.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded listless enough that Ignis didn’t push the conversation. The other two seemed aware of it, too.

It was going to be a long drive.

Noct cracked the window and slumped against the door, pulling his hat further down over his eyes.

“And we’re off.”

“Woohoo!” Prompto already had his camera out in the rear view mirror. “I want to drive when we get out of the city!”

“Oh, boy.”

“Hey, I’m a good driver!”

“Yeah, right. When have you ever drove?”

“Uh, all the time! Noct lets me drive!”

“When we’re out of the city,” Ignis said. “The camera stays in the back.”

“Got it!”

Ignis glanced over at Noctis again; he hadn’t moved, but the hat had slipped down a little further over his face.

He looked back at the road and merged into traffic.

 

 

“Specs.”

Ignis tried not to feel guilty for being startled. The last time he’d checked, Noct had still been sleeping. “Yes?”

“Pull over a sec?” His voice sounded like he was trying too hard to keep it steady, and despite that, it came out weak.

“… Certainly.”

They’d been on the road for almost three hours. Ignis had _thought_ Noctis had been asleep for most of it, but maybe he’d been wrong. It was hard to tell. The prince had never been so _still_ before, in his sleep. Unmoving, save his hair blowing into his face from the window he’d rolled down. It was slightly unnerving.

Prompto and Gladio had already dozed off in the back, so neither of them noticed as Noctis opened the door and let himself out, and they _assuredly_ didn’t notice how Noct’s hands shook against the handle as he did.

Right, then. Stretch his legs. He’d let the other two sleep.

He didn’t know what to do to make the transition easier. It had been difficult enough for the actual turning, but at least that had been over days after it had started. This wasn’t something that would just _stop_. He’d been thinking about it a lot, but, really… Noct had to accept it on his own. They could be there for him, but there was only so much they could do to ease the bloodlust.

“You don’t have to follow me.”

Ignis hummed, stepping out of his place walking along the shadows. “I wasn’t.”

“Yeah right.”

“I was simply taking a leisurely stroll.”

“And I came out here to turn into a bat.” He braced a hand against a tree, and looked around at Ignis. “That’s a myth, right?”

“Unfortunately. Or perhaps fortunately,” Ignis remarked, “depending on the way you look at it.”

“I didn’t pay enough attention in school…” It was mostly a mutter aside, but given that he heard it, Ignis felt he could respond to it. Especially given he _was_ acquainted with vampires.

“Gladio and I can answer any questions you have, to the best of our knowledge. You’re not in this alone, Noct.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Truly,” he said softly. He might being a bit overbearing, but as was his nature. _That_ hadn’t changed. He had even more reason to worry. Finding the balance between being smothering and fearing for their own safety… was slightly more precarious.

“I know…” Noctis slumped a little more against the tree. “… thanks.” He looked up towards the sky. “It’s just… hard to deal with. Needed some air.”

“Would feeding help?” It would, but he chose to ask instead. It was imperative Noctis made these decisions alone, within reason. They wouldn’t always be there to guide him along.

“No.” Noctis shook his head. “I can smell them, but it’s not… _hunger_ … ugh, well yeah, it is, it _always_ is, but…” He stopped talking to the sky, and pushed himself up to full height again. “I can go back. We can go on. I can make it to Hammerhead before… feeding. Do you want me to drive?”

“No, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like driving at night.”

“I–” Ignis paused, falling out of step for an instant. “I’ll admit it’s not my favorite time to drive, but I don’t recall having mentioned it.”

“Really?” A shrug. “I noticed it a long time ago. Gives you a headache with the glasses, yeah? Same with rain. Why do you think I never asked you to drive me anywhere at night?”

“I… assumed it was because you preferred to sneak out and play delinquent,” Ignis said. It was a weak attempt at humor, but he was too busy trying to recall any time Noctis had personally asked him to drive after dark, outside of official business. He couldn’t. How had he never noticed?

That made Noctis laugh. _A welcome sound_ , he thought, and his lips twisted up on their own accord, too. “Hardly. If I’ve got a nice car _and_ a friend who doubles as a chauffeur, why wouldn’t I use them? Insomnia’s _huge._ But it’s hard to sneak the car out, so I usually walk.”

How unobservant he’d been. He’d have to night drive more regularly to make up for it.

“You’re not the only one who notices little things,” Noctis continued, and the smile still firmly on his face, very gently nudged Ignis’s shoulder with his own. It was still hesitant, like he was afraid to do it himself, but he looked even more amused with himself afterwards. “Come on, Specs. Gladio and Prompto are waiting.”

“Right you are,” he said quietly and– smiling only to himself– quickly followed after his prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy here we go
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Halloween folks xP


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leide.

“I can’t believe you didn’t check the gas.”

“A miscalculation, but I had thought–”

“Don’t you _dare_ let go of this car, Gladio!”

“But Nooooct, you’ve got strength to spare now, don’t you? We’re almost there, just one last push!”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t even notice if I let go.”

“Don’t you dare do it!”

He kept one hand on the steering wheel, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers with the other. It felt like a migraine was coming on. And still… some part of him was slightly, slightly amused. This all felt very normal, on par with their adventures in Insomnia, and not like it was the beginning of something bigger. It was _good_ to have that spark of humor again. Privately, he had begun to wonder if it had begun to burn out entirely, lately.

He wanted to chastise them as much as he wanted to tease them, all three of them, but at least they had made it to Hammerhead.

“Bring her in! A little more… a little more… go on and put your back into it!… there! Welcome to Hammerhead, fellas! Now, which one of you boys is the prince?”

Noctis braced his hands against the back of the car, but not before waving vaguely to Cindy; that was her name, if Ignis remembered the king correctly. Just like that, all of his amusement was gone, sapped from his body like so much energy fleeing. Noct looked uncomfortable: he was undeniably pale, curled over the car. It wouldn’t be just exhaustion. Prompto was right, Noct would have extra strength to spare right now. Being tired wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, but looking _that_ way would.

“Oh _golly_. You need a drink, Mister Prince! Now you go on over there to our diner– there won’t be anyone but one or two people there cuz we don’t have a motel here– and you tell Takka that you need what Paw-Paw prepared for you. That’ll get you set straight.” She grinned, looping her thumbs into her belt loops. “Lucis has got some nasty background with them children of the night, but not everyone thinks they’re all so bad! Now you go on and get over there, and I should be able to fix up your ride in a jiff!”

Perhaps most telling, Noctis went without a word. He pushed himself up straight and took off walking for the diner. Prompto started to follow, but Ignis stopped him before he could.

“Let him be for a moment,” he said softly.

“It really is still hard for him, huh…” Prompto said quietly. His eyes tracked Noctis’s movement until he vanished around the doorway. Ignis was watching, too.

“He’s just a newborn vampire, darlin’, of course it is.”

“O–Oh! Yes, ma’am!”

“Your friend’ll be fine, though! Can’t say I have much experience with vamps, but Paw-Paw and the king apparently went back together. Had a fallin’ out, but even though they both hunted back in the day, he’d still help out.” Cindy patted the front of the Regalia. “Now I’ll get her some gas, and make sure she’s fit for her journey. You can go after your friend.”

“Alright! We will! Thank you! Miss…”

“Cindy Aurum, at your service!” She touched the brim of her hat and turned away.

“Miss Cindy…”

“Wow,” Gladio intoned. “Pack it away there, loverboy, you’ve got no chance.”

“Hey! Like _you_ do!” Prompto huffed, jammed his hands in his pockets, and grumbled about going after Noct. Ignis let him this time.

“I see what you mean,” Gladio said. “Holding himself back.”

“Yes…” He should have insisted on at least a top-up on the road, but again, learning to let Noctis learn to deal with it himself.

“Someone turning can say they’d rather die than hurt someone until they’re blue in the face, but then they immediately attack. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone hold themselves back like that. Not successfully.” He looked pensive.

Ignis understood _that_ particular feeling. “As long as he can keep up with his feedings for now, I do think he’ll be able to manage. It’s weighing on him, but…”

“He’s always been a fighter.” Gladio’s frown deepened. “But what happens when he’s _not_ feeding regularly. That’s the question.”

“One we’ll have answered when we get there.” Once he was no longer newly blooded, Ignis suspected things might be easier. But how long that would take? He couldn’t even begin to guess.

“Yep. Gotta keep an eye on him in the meantime.”

“I agree. He still has a long road ahead of him.”

“Yeah.”

 

 

Dinner was quiet. Noctis wasn’t inclined to speak, likely due to the fangs he was still having trouble retracting at will. Prompto turned back to Gladio to break the awkwardness, idle conversation that Ignis didn’t listen to. As for himself, he spent a fair deal of time trying to think of how to recreate the chili, scribbling down notes as he drowned out the faint drone of appliances in the background. Staying as normal as possible in a world turned on its head.

Cindy informed them that, thanks to Prompto’s little… love tap earlier when he had been driving, there were _actual repairs_ to be made. Which had led to Ignis having to explain that they hadn’t the money; the coins lining their pockets seemed had been rendered useless from crossing Insomnia’s city limits. Honestly, he should have expected that. It was too late to worry about it now. So they ended up on a night-time hunt in an unfamiliar part of Leide in hopes of a cash reward, which… actually shouldn’t have surprised him at all.

“What are we looking for again?” Prompto fumbled for the bounty poster in his pocket. “My feet hurt.”

“I don’t even want to hear it.”

“Yes, if somebody hadn’t wrecked the car…”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Prompto whined. “I didn’t mean to!”

“We know. Regicide is above your capability.”

“Hey!”

Smothering a laugh, he glanced down at the map in his hands. “Remind us where we were headed.”

“This way.”

All three of them looked at Noctis.

“I mean…” Noct looked off into the distance. “I dunno if it’s our target, but there’s something out there. It’s not human, at least.”

“Oh, _sweet!_ ”

“Nice party trick there.” Gladio clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we can use you, after all.”

“Nice.” He swatted back at him, and when Gladio moved on with a smirk, proceeded to look a little surprised that he’d done just that. “Thanks,” he called after him sarcastically, after a moment, and moved to catch up.

He really _had_ improved after that blood. Improved enough to snipe at the others the way that he had been, on and off, to Ignis while he’d been staying with him. That was a very good sign.

“Lead the way, Noct,” he said, falling into step behind them.

He did; eyes focused on the darkness ahead of them, likely seeing things even past the glow of their lights shining into the night. Sight, hearing, and smell, the three senses that would have been strengthened by the turn. Ignis wasn’t certain if it was because Noct was finally feeling like he was helping to do something, or if it was just the press of night air and no civilization around, but the prince looked _happy_.

Hair ruffled in the breeze, chin up with determination, grinning as Prompto fell into step next to him. Eyes a gleaming point in the darkness when the light caught them, and the soft noise of laughter after he spoke.

He caught himself staring. What was he _doing_? The second time in so many weeks asking himself that. He didn’t need to watch the prince so closely, vampire or not. They were on a hunt; he needed his attention on _that_ instead. He shook his head and quickened his pace to fall in line with them.

“– okay now?”

“Yeah,” Noctis was saying. “Just… I dunno. It’s okay with the windows down, I guess, but I can still… still smell all of you at once, then we had to push the car… it got overwhelming really fast. Should have timed it better…”

“… does our blood really smell that strong?”

“I mean… to me.” Noct shrugged. “Iggy said it should go away, a little. With time. Or that I won’t notice it as much.”

“You’re doing really well now, though.”

“I just… fed.” Reluctance on the word. Ignis could tell how much he hated it.

“No, in general!” Prompto said. “Like, holding yourself back like that. I wouldn’t be able to do it at all.”

“Be glad you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know, I just mean…”

“I know.” A nudge, and Prompto looking primed to retaliate. He stopped himself.

“So, wait, are you… okay with touching? Us touching you?”

“Uh, maybe?”

“Oookay, so that means no.”

“I dunno. Just maybe? If I know _I’m_ gonna do it, it’s okay?”

“So just no surprises?”

“Yeah.” He slowed, turning his head slightly. “Speaking of… maybe... eleven o'clock… I think? Somewhere there.” He summoned up his blades from the ether, and all three of them did the same. “You should see it soon… wait… now!”

The last time he’d been in a fight like this, he had been fighting one of the rogue vampires with Gladio. Now he was fighting _beside_ one. How time changed things. He wouldn’t have ever guessed.

He sent a both blades flying into their target, following up Noctis’s lead. His presence against his back wasn’t as warm as the press of a human body should have been, but the feeling of him standing there was enough in itself. Then Gladio was crashing in with his broadsword, slicing a gash along the sabertusk, and they were separating from each other to land blows upon the others.

Compared to fighting a vamp, this was much easier. And at least this would get them the necessary bounty to help pay for repairs.

“We did it! Our first real hunt!”

“Hell yeah! Let’s go back and collect our bounty.”

“Spectacular,” Ignis said. He was just about dismiss his blades back into the nothingness, and caught sight of Noctis’s face a second before he did. “Noct?”

“Just… something else, maybe? Everyone’s adrenaline is throwing me off–”

“Heads up!”

Ignis spun around, throwing an arm out in front of Noct on reflex. Which was just as well, as Prompto's first shot fired at the creature sent it changing direction to charge towards them. Instinct to protect the prince meant a delayed reaction and the pain of a large claw slashing along his own arm before he could swing his blade around and up into the monster’s chest.

He barely heard the screech of the beast as it died, but turned to assess Noctis in making sure that he hadn’t been injured. “Are you hurt?”

He recognized that Noctis’s eyes had gone a pinkish red and he recognized that his own arm was freely bleeding. Both things at the same time, and then everything happened very fast. A flurry of movement. Noctis had his bare arm in his grip and a fresh burst of pain, two distinct points exploding back into sensation, a noise of shock and discomfort bubbled up around his tied tongue and Gladio and Prompto were both exclaiming out loud and moving, and even as Ignis recognized all of _that_ , he was throwing a hand up to stop the other two. “Let him!” he ordered, and even if it came out weak, it did stop them in their tracks.

“Don’t be stupid!”

“Better me than anyone else!” He meant better any of them, any of his royal retainer that were supposed to have protected him in the first place and hadn’t. Better them than any citizen passing on the street, better now for an understandable reason than one that couldn’t be justified. “Just… let him.”

By the _Gods_ , though. It _hurt_. Fangs shouldn’t hurt that much. Just two pinpricks of agony, except it mushroomed beneath his skin and set his blood on fire. He wouldn’t turn, but he imagined this must be how it felt when the beginning stages began. Noctis had gone through this, and worse.

It didn’t stop him from having to reach out to find something to ground himself with, to keep himself upright when his knees wanted to buckle. He settled with twisting a hand into Gladiolus’s jacket and breathing hard. He wanted Noct to feed until he could come back to himself, or until he was satiated. He also knew that Gladio and Prompto could fend him off if necessary. He wasn’t three years old and watching a vampire drain his mother dry.

He still felt faint. His head felt full of cotton, and his eyelids too heavy to keep open. Was this what it felt like to die? He wondered that vaguely, and then when he had decided it must be, the sensation changed. Pain ceased to be pain; the next wave of wooziness that washed over him came with a blanket of something _nice_ , thick and warm like honey settling over him. It felt _good_. Like buzzing beneath his skin, humming in his veins, a rush of something more hot and heady, and his eyes fluttered closed, head dropping to the side. Gods, more of that, Noctis could have him whenever he liked if it meant _this_ feeling throughout his body–

– the next thing he knew, he was on the ground in Prompto’s arms, and Noctis was gone. The warmth in his bones had gone, and had been replaced with pain again. He tried to propel himself up to find Noctis with a muffled gasp of displeasure and loss both.

“Stay still!”

“Noct–”

“Gladio went after him, hold on, I’m getting a potion.”

Ignis allowed himself to sag back against Prompto’s shoulder. His body was still buzzing. He felt weak. He wouldn’t be able to walk right now if he tried. He tried to chase the remnants of the strange pleasure that had been thick in his veins, but it had already gone. His arm was throbbing, thin and winding rivulets of blood streaming down to a gloved hand. He tried to flex his fingers. He felt boneless.

Prompto pressed the mouth of the potion bottle against his lips. “Drink this, Iggy.”

Ignis hummed in consent, and the restorative was blissfully cool on his tongue. It didn’t rival the way that it had felt to have Noctis feeding from him, but it helped to soothe the ache left now that he had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a vampire au you know I had to hit that trope *majestically dabs* 
> 
> Seriously though, we have to give Noctis a reason to trust himself even less, now don't we? In true FFXV fashion, you have to counter a happy moment with a bad one. (Cue the 'let them rest' comments!!! ahahaha)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout?

The bathroom in the camper was too compact, he thought, clumsily finding the pedal in the darkness to flush the toilet. He’d left his glasses in the bedroom in his haste. He didn’t want to stay awake long enough to go back to collect them, but his stomach was churning. There was no hope of sleep for awhile now.

“Iggy.”

Drying his hands on his shirt wasn’t admissible, but he was exhausted. He squinted into the darkness at Gladio’s voice as he nearly fell out of the bathroom.

“How you feelin’?”

He staggered to the sink for a glass of water, and had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Reacting as suspected,” he said quietly. “Where’s Noct?”

Gladiolus dropped his head back onto the sofa, waving vaguely towards the door. “Cindy said she’d keep an eye out cause she’s working overnight. Girl doesn’t know when to take a break, either.” He paused, and then the impending lecture began. “That was stupid, Iggy, he drank enough for you to end up on your ass.”

Even through the darkness, Ignis could feel the intended _look_. He responded with a shrug Gladio wouldn’t see. The nausea was coming back. “Thank you for getting me back here. And Noct. All of us in one piece.” He swallowed. “Mostly one piece.” His arm was still hurting. Now he had stitches, too. He couldn’t remember getting back here to get them, or even who had done it, but the potion could only do so much. He could taste bile on the back of his tongue. He had bigger issues, right now. The venom was working its way through his system. “Excuse me,” he muttered, hand fluttering to his mouth as he hurried for the camper door.

“Lemme know if you need anything.”

He waved briefly over his shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath of cool night air as he stepped outside. His intention was that maybe the air would help to quell the nausea and clear his head, but… really, he just wanted to check on Noctis.

Who was, in question, sitting at one of the tables outside the camper, too still up until the moment the door opened and his attention whipped around to Ignis. The emotion that went across his face was too much of a mess for Ignis to read just then, even if he had been able to decipher it from this distance.

“Ignis…”

“Are you okay?” he interrupted, before Noctis could continue. He had been asking that, before he’d been bitten, too, hadn’t he? He really was predictable.

“Am _I_ … Specs… I–Ignis, I’m _so_ sor–”

“There's no need, Noct.”

“Don’t ‘no need’ me, I _attacked_ you!”

“You bit me. You never attacked me.”

“Now’s _really_ not the time to mince words.”

“But you didn’t. You just bit me. A little roughly, but that’s understandable. You’re newly turned and there was blood in front of you,” he said. He was trying to be rational, but he was anything but right now. Not for the reasons the prince probably thought, either. He had to swallow the excess saliva in his mouth again. “You could have attacked, easily. But you only…” He swallowed, again. This was useless. He held up a hand, a singular finger to beg off for a moment, before going to vomit into the bushes.

“Specs– hey! Specs??”

Gods, that was vile. He had been bitten before. Just once, and it was just how he remembered it. Feverish, pain, vomiting. Wanting to go to bed and not wanting to get back up until it had worked through. He tried not to gasp as he straightened up, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth. “I’m fine, Noct.”

“What’s… I didn’t turn you…”

He shook his head a little too strongly for how poorly he felt. “Not at all. Vamp venom does make humans sick, though, especially depending on how long the feeding lasted for and how used you are to it.”

Noctis was hovering back by the corner of the trailer, one hand braced against the exterior. The jumble of emotion had evened out to concern. It was… strangely flattering to see Noct worrying about him.

“I’ve heard that if it’s only a short feeding, the effects aren’t so bad. Unfortunately,” he gestured the prince back over to the tables. He was shaking from the strain of these repeated bouts of vomiting. He needed to sit down. “The only other time I’ve been bitten was worse, so I can’t tell you if it’s true or not.”

“You’ve… been bitten before.” Noctis slowly sank back into his vacated seat, watching Ignis across the table. Ignis was just glad that he had sat back down, too. He _trusted_ him. He could have easily taken his entire arm off instead of just drinking. He could have killed him. He hadn’t. He wanted Noct to trust _himself_ again. He wasn’t so foolish to think it would happen overnight, or, probably, any time soon. But eventually?

“Just the once.” He could remember. It hadn’t been anything spectacular. Just a hunt gone wrong, when he was new on the field and his seniors had been indisposed. “I was attacked, actually. It wasn’t just the need for blood, like you.”

“I didn’t _need_ blood, though,” Noctis muttered, sotto voce. Then he raised his voice again. “Was this during a hunt?”

“Indeed.” He propped his head on his hand. The lethargy would probably last for days, even after the rest of the symptoms had gone. It had been years ago, that first bite. “I was new to the lifestyle. It wasn’t my first hunt, but I was still meant to be under supervision and this particular vamp caught us off guard. My mentors were overwhelmed, and so was I.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Not… just about that time,” Noctis said quietly.

“… All the same.”

The prince seemed to sigh, pushing himself back to lean back into the chair. Ignis watched as he smoothed his hand over the healed bite mark on his throat– a habit, now, he had noticed– and then looked off towards the sky. It was quiet. He followed his gaze, tipping his head further back to dislodge the hair from his eyes.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a, uh, meteor shower or something?” Noct asked suddenly, not looking down. “You were mentioning, back at your place.”

“Oh.” He had forgotten. “The peak is… two days from now, I believe. Cheers for the reminder, I’d forgotten.”

“You?” Noctis fixed him with a teasing, affronted look. “No.”

“I digress, Noct. My memory isn’t as good as it once was.”

A muffled laugh, and then Noctis continued. “We’ll have to find a spot to watch them, then. I mean, if you wanted to. Like when we were kids.”

Memories of soft blankets and cool grass beneath bare feet, of a young Noctis squirming next to him to get comfortable. Struggling to remember the constellations at their age and marvelling at the sight of the stars falling in the sky. The king snapping photos of them for his personal collection when he had been meant to take pictures of the stars, if he remembered correctly.

Things had been so innocent, then.

“The stars are really bright tonight, though,” Noctis was saying. “ _Eden_ is especially, I can find most of the stars.”

“I can’t see much of anything,” Ignis said balefully, flashing Noctis a playful look. “It’s all a muddled blur to me.”

“Oh, your glasses.” He stood up. “Where are they?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to be sick again, anyway, I think.” The stars were blurry, and staring at the pricks of lights in the sky was making the vertigo spin out of control, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“How long… how long will you be sick for?” Noctis asked, still hovering by his seat. Still looking worried. Or maybe he wasn’t at all, and Ignis’s vision was worse than he’d thought.

“Less than a day. It’s nothing, really.” He had glanced at Noct when he spoke, and this time didn’t look back at the sky. It was steadily becoming too vast, even through its beauty. “I’ll be fine.”

Noctis looked at him a little too closely, and a little too concerned. “I’ll get you some water,” he said, turning for the camper door.

“It’s really not necessary, Noct.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

He relented. It was too much energy to fight a battle that didn’t matter. “I appreciate it. But you really don’t need to worry about me,” he added, hauling himself up. He’d take the moment of privacy, although he was certain they would would hear him being sick if they were listening.

“Well, I am. Let somebody take care of you for once, Specs. Jeez, trying to be a good guy here…”

His lips quirked into a little smile, even as he swallows against the taste of bile on his tongue.

When Noctis had returned, and Ignis was wiping sweat off his brow with a trembling hand, the prince reached up to press his hand against Ignis’s forehead. It was as natural as it was suddenly surprising and Noctis was cool against his overheated skin.

“Drink your water,” he said softly.

Ignis thought Noctis’s hand might have lingered too long. He accepted the water and drank it down greedily.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~the fall~~

Galdin Quay was humid. Even at morning, there was sweat in the small of his back and his hair was wilting under the heat. The very first thing that they had done upon arriving was pay an inordinate amount of money for a room to stay the night. Noctis had shed the protective layer _s_ of clothing necessary for being out in the sun, looking a little sick, and Prompto had rationed their remaining gil to purchase icy drinks at the restaurant. They had gone swimming after nightfall, Prompto and Noctis, while Gladio had attempted to chat up Coctura. Ignis had rolled his pants legs up and sat on the dock, feet dangling in the water. All three of them were distracted by the fish glowing beneath them.

It was a nice respite.

It had been nearly two weeks since Noctis’s slip up out on the field. Ignis had spent a good fifteen hours ill, staying outside with Noct until sleep had claimed him. He’d been perfect company. He’d gotten him his glasses and, eventually, a blanket without him even noticing. Sleeping at the table proper, though, when his stomach had calmed enough for him to doze, had apparently been the last straw. He’d coaxed him back inside and had hesitated when Ignis reminded him that he could stay in the camper with them. In the end, he’d said that the sun wasn’t up for a couple of hours yet, and vanished back out into the darkness. Ignis had been too tired to be disappointed.

It had taken longer for the residual weakness to wear off. It was a bit like having the flu, and coming off of it. Noctis’s worry– _and_ guilt, although he probably thought Ignis didn’t notice– continued to amuse, resign, and placate him all at once. The prince worrying was endearing, but Ignis also wasn’t the one used to being worried _over_. It was satisfying, in a way, if only it hadn’t happened because of the bite.

That bite… He had told Noct correctly. The other time he had been bitten had been an _attack_ , and nothing about that had been remotely comfortable. But when Noct had had his arm in hand and his fangs in his skin, it had been… there had been _something…_ about it. It was something he couldn’t explain now, but he could still feel the warmth sweeping over his body, settling into his limbs, his chest, his stomach. He’d wager to say it was the incapacitation effect of the venom, but it hadn’t felt like that. He might have been trapped, but he hadn’t wanted to go. He’d wanted to let Noctis drink as much as he wanted so long as it _helped_ him, and he had wanted Noctis to keep drinking if it kept the inexplicable feeling in his veins. He couldn’t remember what had happened following Noct pulling himself away, but he could remember the sensation, remember his legs going weak and his head falling back on his shoulders–

He tried not to dwell on it. It had probably been the mind’s last attempt at lessening pain before death, as if he’d been close enough to that. Thinking about it caused… side effects, he’d thought faintly, and pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

However, they couldn’t _forget_ it _had_ happened.

Noctis kept his distance, even alarmingly so, for a few days. Then he had gradually starting getting closer to them– him– again, bit by bit, until he was back to back with him in battle and things were almost normal again.

Gladiolus had given Prompto a silver ring, nearly identical to the ones he and Ignis wore. He’d told him to wear it, just in case. Prompto had started to protest, had looked at the bandages on Ignis’s arm, and slipped the ring onto his finger unhappily.

They were overly careful when they got injured in battle. Spilled blood– spilled _human_ blood– was still more than Noctis could take. He’d be there one moment and gone after the enemy was subdued, or sometimes even before, depending on if he was due for a feeding. He’d always be waiting back at the car, a hand over his nose or mouth or face.

The more battles they took, the more bounties they went on hunt for, the more adept they become at coordinating, though. Injuries that drew blood were becoming less frequent. Less injuries to tend, less clothing to mend, Ignis had remarked one night, and quietly enjoyed the eye rolls he got in reply. They were _all_ pleased with themselves, make no mistake.

One hunt, Noctis had, on his own accord, brought up drinking animal blood. A test, in case they were ever in need of alternative. So when their last garula had been felled, Ignis and Gladio had agreed, tentatively, to give him the go-ahead. A beast that you could eat, after all. As it turned out, its blood tasted nowhere near as good as, say, an actual garula sirloin, Noct had relayed, spitting and retching over a mouthful of blood. Nowhere near as good as a human’s. And likely less beneficial, anyway; it had been a bad idea.

Their stock of blood did run dry quickly enough, but Cid followed through on the king’s promise. With the money made from hunts and various tasks they took on along the way, they were able to afford accommodations, as well as pay back Cid and Cindy for their… _special_ accommodations.

Noctis slept a lot during the day, save if it wasn’t sunny. When they did need him awake, it was with every inch of skin covered, sunglasses and hat, and a very grumpy prince. It… really wasn’t too far from the usual, asides the weird looks that he got for the extra clothing.

It was around this time that Noct had admitted, a little hesitantly, he might be okay to go to Altissia. Before that, they needed to go to Galdin Quay, and it would be a good test of how Noctis reacted to a busy suburban setting. Mildly busy. It was nothing like Altissia, but infinitely more populated than, say, Longwythe.

He had been doing _well_. Until they had run into… suspicious characters. A self proclaimed ‘man of no consequence’, but he had very nearly drawn out things best left in the shadows. Namely, the prince of Lucis’s vampirism. He’d flicked a coin at him and Noct had nearly caught it on reflex. Gladio had stepped in first. It had all happened fast enough that Ignis didn’t think twice. It wasn’t until Noctis had taken the coin to look at it, and then consequently hissed in pain and immediately dropped it, did Ignis put two and two together. Silver.

The burn was already healed, Ignis thought. He was heading back to the room after acquainting himself with the harbor. But it could have been a lot worse. Bad timing, that. Almost as if that man had known–

“– _all_ of Insomnia?”

“As far as I heard, it’s _terrible_ –”

Ignis slowed. News from Insomnia? He had only spoken to Uncle once since they had set out, to give him an update on Noctis for the king. It wasn’t as if he could share recent details, anyway.

“And it was Niflheim?”

“But what about the ceasefire?”

He stopped. Suddenly, his heart was in his mouth. Niflheim? Insomnia? The ceasefire. His mouth went dry. “I didn’t mean to overhear,” he said, angling his attention to the man and woman at the table, “but what exactly happened in Insomnia?”

“Oh, you hadn’t heard? It’s horrible. Give him the Beacon, dear.”

The man held the newspaper out. Even before he took it, he could see the headline.

_INSOMNIA FALLS_

His breath caught in his throat. I–Insomni–

The words ceased to exist on paper; the story was no longer important. He could only see the headline. It was all that mattered. Insomnia falls. _Insomnia falls_. Insomnia had… Insomnia had… their friends… his uncle… the _king_ … Insomnia had fallen? Preposterous. It couldn’t have. Except it… must have.

He couldn’t see the words at all, then, vision blurring them into a whirl of paper and ink. The tears fell with a horrified gasp and he went reeling back, jerking his glasses from his face. “Excuse me,” he said, fingers seizing around the paper as he clamored away.

Niflheim had ended the ceasefire. They had attacked Insomnia. The city was… the city…

He needed to read this newspaper. He needed the information. But he couldn’t _focus_ – the tears wouldn’t stop _falling_ –

It was still early. Galdin wasn’t bustling, and he was thankful for that as he dropped onto the stairs and put his face in his hands. He couldn’t breathe. The idea that their home was gone was incomprehensible. Yes, they had needed to go away for awhile, but they would always be able to return _home_ –

Suddenly the past weeks were _too much_. Noctis’s turning. Insomnia. He had to stifle a sob into his hands and then wrench himself back from the brink of utter despair lest he fall over it. He had… he had to… read this paper. And he had to tell the others. _He_ had to tell them. He couldn’t let them read it like this.

Oh _Gods_ , how was he supposed to tell them? How was he supposed to tell _Noctis_?

He scrubbed his hands against his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes. Stars exploded across the darkness behind them. Noctis was laughing at Ignis’s contained excitement at the meteor shower. Noctis with his teeth in Ignis’s skin. Noctis sulking away from his father and sleeping on the way out from Insomnia, expecting to come home again. Ignis sucked in a sharp breath and smoothed out the newspaper.

He tried to formulate how to say it, the longer he read. He tried to find the right words. But even as he walked, still numb, back to their room, he couldn’t figure them out. There were none. How was he supposed to _tell_ them–

His throat felt threat to close up again, and he would be even more useless. Breathe, Ignis. He tried to imagine his uncle saying that to him. Despite the fact that it had only been weeks since they’d spoken, Ignis realized with startling agony that he couldn’t remember his voice at all. _Breathe._

He had to force himself to follow his own advice. He breathed in deeply, and slowly, and pressed his forehead against the wall outside their room, unconsciously mirroring the same position he had the night Noctis had come, bearing vampire blood in his veins, to his apartment. Then he forced himself upright, and to open the door.

The curtains were drawn along the large windows, but all three of them were awake. Even Noctis. Despite Ignis’s best efforts, he couldn’t help but let his gaze fall and linger on him. He was going to overturn his entire world in a few seconds. He had confessed last night, while Ignis had still been awake, that he was worried about his upcoming nuptials. It was probably why he was awake so early. That would cease to matter at all, in a few seconds.

Noctis frowned. “What’s that look for?”

… He couldn’t say it. He was weak, and he couldn’t say it.

So he handed the newspaper to Gladiolus instead, dragging his gaze away from Noctis as he turned. He didn’t want to see his face. He didn’t want to see his agony. He’d already suffered enough, and now he had lost his father, his city, and his home.

Not to say everything else they had lost, too.

“Insomnia… falls?”

He didn’t need enhanced hearing to hear the sharp inhale from behind him. Like the fact that he would inevitably forget his uncle’s voice, he intrinsically knew that that sound would haunt his nightmares, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ever noticed that Iggy's eyes are red when he comes in with the news?  
> yeah. I have. 
> 
> (and if you're gross like me you run a screenshot through an editor and smash the saturation to make sure you're not ACTUALLY making shit up and then get overly emotional when you realize it's a legit thing)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~In a single night, the promise of peace has been broken, the Crown City along with it. Putting their home behind them, the four friends set forth to find~~ answers ~~in Hammerhead.~~

If it felt like a dream to Ignis, he could only imagine what staring towards their former home felt like to Noctis. He just stood there, on the hill overlooking the city, all too still. Ignis couldn’t see his face from the angle he was standing. He expected he didn’t want to, anyway. But he watched Noctis standing there, hair blowing in the breeze, silently, feeling numb himself, and trying not to feel even that.

He needed to keep an even closer eye on their prince now. Not only because of the emotional response he was sure to be hiding, but also because their prince… now ceased to be a prince. He was their king. He would be, as soon as he chose to step into the role.

Despite that, Ignis wasn’t sure he was fit to keep an eye out for _himself_ , let alone Noctis, right now.

They all were collectively startled when Noctis’s phone went off, and the fact that it was the Marshal calling didn’t precisely help. He _would_ be able to provide assistance, of that Ignis had no mistake, but… what was done was done.

They just… needed to go on. There was no turning back. They had nothing to turn back to.

“Noct,” he said, on their way back to the car. His voice sounded dead. He wondered if it sounded that way to them. He hoped not. “You should feed before we go.”

“No.”

The word filtered through his consciousness too slowly. “Noctis…”

“What’s the point.”

“You need to–”

“Do it,” Gladio interrupted. His tone was brooking no argument and yet it came out as lifeless as Ignis thought his own voice did. Or maybe his ears weren’t working properly. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams after all of these repeated blows himself, but that was selfish to think.

“… whatever,” Noctis muttered, and pushed ahead through the mud and muck.

Fitting that it had started raining almost immediately after they had received the news, Ignis thought wryly, and swiped droplets of water from his glasses. It was like the kingdom was crying, too.

His heart ached. He kept following Noctis.

 

 

Meeting up with the Marshal was both everything that they could have expected and a _remarkable_ surprise nonetheless.

“You’re a vampire?” Noctis had blurted, the first real thing that he had said without sadness disguised as anger, and Ignis had outright _stared_.

Only for a moment, but long enough to see Cor nod like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He wasn’t the only one gaping, though. It had been the first thing out of Noctis’s mouth, even before hello. He must have been able to smell him, which explained why he had gotten so tense upon arrival at the prairie outpost.

Gladio was looking even _more_ stunned. “The Marshal’s a vampire– _you’re_ a vampire–?”

Cor huffed, a noise that _might_ have been a laugh. It likely wasn’t. “You can hinge your jaw back up, Gladio. Didn’t your father teach you it’s rude to stare?”

“Sorry, I’m just… shit. Wait, you were in Insomnia. All the time!”

“Regis manipulated things so that I could visit at times, yes.”

“Is that why you’re called Cor the Immortal? Wait, is that why I could never kick your ass??”

“It’s a comical title, but a coincidence. Mostly.” He walked around the royal tomb, and glanced over his shoulder. “And you couldn’t kick my ass because you still needed training.”

“Bullshit!”

Ignis glanced at Noctis and then, beyond him, Prompto. As hunters, it was always their intent to protect and placate those who weren’t fully aware of vampires and their presence among them, but… Prompto was only beaming, looking at Cor with the same look in his eyes that Ignis could remember from back when they had been in high school.

“You knew?”

Prompto jumped, and then looked a little guilty. “Eheheh…” His fingers toyed with his hair. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. Sorry Iggy.”

That certainly explained why he was so at ease around vampires, less wary than Ignis had expected… and why he had been silent all those weeks ago when Gladio had asked if he knew any good vampires.

The secrets that they kept, even amongst themselves.

The lies they told themselves, he thought, watching from the corner of his eye when Noctis pressed a hand to the spot the royal arm had entered his chest. He told himself that this all consuming desire to take away any of the prince’s pain was foolish, after an extent. He would still offer himself up, mind, body, heart, and soul, if Noctis needed it. Or perhaps even wanted it.

 _Those_ thoughts were encroaching far too closely to feelings that Ignis couldn’t afford to have. The same feelings that had prompted the slip of the tongue back when Noctis had been turning, no doubt, the same feelings he had been locking away since he had started to realize that, perhaps, they meant more than just loyalty.

No. They could _only_ be loyalty. Nothing more. Loyalty to king and country… and a friend he’d known for most of his life. _Nothing more_.

“Ignis.”

The Marshal drew him out of his thoughts. He wondered how long he had been walking, lost in thought. They would almost be to Keycatrich by now. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for your uncle. He was a good man.”

Ignis mustered a smile. “Yes,” he agreed faintly. “Insomnia was full of good men.”

“That it was.” For a moment, even Cor looked as distraught as Ignis was sure they all felt. “That it was.”

… They had bigger things to worry about now, anyway. Ignis couldn’t afford to get distracted. He fell into step next to Cor, and they continued on to the next royal tomb.

 

 

“A- _choo_!”

“Gods bless you,” Ignis murmured, tucking his chin further into the collar of his jacket.

“When’s the damn rain gonna stop?” Gladio replied, rubbing his nose.

“I thought it was gonna, back at the first tomb.” Prompto shook water from his hair. It was already plastered to his head; so was Ignis’s, so was Noctis’s, so was Gladio’s. It had been pouring for _days_. Well, only two, but it felt like much longer when you were walking in it. Ignis wasn’t prone to exaggeration, but it really had become miserable. “Then it got worse again…”

“Why do we have to do so much _walking_ when it rains?”

“At least it’ll be good cover for our ambush,” Ignis said. He was trying to remain positive, even though it was uncomfortably cold now.

“I’m surprised Cor called us in right after we got out of Keycatrich. I mean, I didn’t expect to see him again so soon.”

“Yeah. Told us to find the tombs, now this.” Gladio was still sniffling. Ignis hoped he wasn’t catching a cold. “I’m all down for a good fight, but we can’t do both. Need the power of kings to amp up our arsenal.”

“We fight well enough already.” Noctis finally broke his silence.

Ignis was, of course, still worried about him, too. The wound was still too fresh. He’d barely been speaking since the first tomb, and when he did, it was either sarcastic or angry. Or both. And while it was completely understandable, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry about him. _That_ was just going to have to be understandable, too.

“Don’t underestimate the empire.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Noctis retorted. “They destroyed my home, remember?”

“It was _our_ home, too. Don’t forget.”

“How am I supposed to forget?”

“Enough,” Ignis interrupted. His voice was a little too sharp, but this _bickering_ – _he’d_ lost his home, too, _Prompto_ had lost his home, too– he couldn’t think about it. “We’re here. Monica should be up ahead. Let us focus on the task at hand.”

“Right-o…”

“Fine.”

“Come on.”

Grieving was fine, but this wasn’t healthy. As if he had room to talk, taking out his anger and upset on the Niffs. They all needed a better outlet, and time _alone_ to grieve. They weren’t liable to get any of that, right now.

Lightning crackled through the sky, and Ignis shivered from the tingling sensation that washed over him. He smoothed the hair on the back of his neck and looked around for the rest of his friends, suddenly uneasy.

“Noctis!” Cor, raising his voice, would never fail to surprise. It took him right back to being chastised by him in training. Gods, those were days he didn’t want to revisit. “Control it.”

Noctis’s hand was still perched from where he’d been gripping his blade before it had vanished. He looked up at Cor, eyes a little wide. “Control what?”

Cor jabbed a hand towards the sky, and then frowned when recognition didn’t come into any of their faces. “You don’t know, do you.”

“Know what…?”

“You’re atmokinetic.”

Noctis stared. “Atmo- _what_?”

“Oh.” Now something, at least, was starting to make sense. “He can control the weather?”

Cor’s face was one of disbelief. “None of you knew? How… well, that’s what happens.” He looked to Noctis. “You can control _elements_ of the weather. I could tell when I met you the other day. Eventually, you’ll be able to manipulate weather to your liking, although I don’t suggest using it more than strictly necessary. It saps your strength, leaves you defenseless and thirsty if you use it too often.”

“I… I can control the weather?!”

“Most vampires have an innate ability to control animals, but some can control weather as well. You can use it to call in clouds to block the sun, create fog, draw rain. But only sparingly, and it’ll remain to be difficult for some years still. Right now, however, your emotions are out of control, the weather’s out of control. Control your mind, control the weather.” Cor swept his fingers through his hair. “Dispel the rain, Noctis. It’s been days.”

“I… how?” Noct shoved his hands in pockets, frowning. “I can’t.”

“You can try.”

“I don’t know how!”

“Find something that feels like sunshine.”

“Did Cor the Immortal _really_ just tell me to find something that– fine, _fine_.” He sighed, and his whole body seemed to slump forward. “I don’t know… I don’t… I _can’t_ …” He made a face, looking up again. “I don’t know what’s happy. What’s happy?” He looked at Ignis. “Remind me of something. Please.”

Something happy? Hard pressed, that. Ignis breathed in slowly while trying to disengage himself from the cold and the rain. To put himself back in Lucis, with the many other people he loved, and the people that he would inevitably begin to forget. No, think happy thoughts. That was the exercise here. What was happy…  

Actual sunshine, streaming in his windows at dawn. Looking out over the Citadel. The familiar road taken to that building every day, and the road taken to Noctis’s apartment. The things he’d thought he hated, cooking and cleaning up after the prince, bringing his paperwork and checking his homework and tucking a blanket around his shoulders when he refused to get off the couch.

Things they wouldn’t have for a very long time, and definitely not in Insomnia. Things they might not have again.

 _Happy._ He opened his eyes, unaware that they’d gone closed, and smiled sadly. Even the happiest things were tainted now, but he couldn’t accept that they would always be. “Tenebraen pastries,” he said softly. “The first time I baked for you.”

Noctis stared at him for a long moment. Sad and cold and bitter, and exhausted on top of all of that. Searching Ignis for… something, now that he had given him an answer. And then he snorted softly, turning his head away. Not before Ignis caught a glimmer of a smile. “That’s not a happy memory.”

It wasn’t, exactly, but he had still picked it. “Well, I remember it fondly.”

“It was horrible.”

Ah, right. He had forgotten how that still made his ears burn. “I was ten, Noct.”

Now Noctis was actually, properly, smiling. He was looking at Ignis again, and smiling. Even if his eyes still looked mostly empty, remote and detached, they were latched on Ignis, and he was actually smiling. Just a little.

“Who tries to make Tenebraen pastries when they’re ten??”

He cocked his head, as if trying to think. “I thought we were talking about me. Unless you know someone else who tried?”

A _laugh_. A smile. He almost looked playful as he shot back, “No, only you. Only you would do it.”

“Anything for you.”

It was instinctive, and reflexive, and _true_. He would have tacked a ‘Highness’ onto the end, if he didn’t think the reminder that he was royalty, due to be king after his father’s death, would have upset him again. It felt awkward, and _too_ true. Noctis inspected him again, and Ignis forced himself not to look away. It was only too invasive if he let himself admit it was. It only meant anything if he told himself it did, so he told himself it didn’t.

“Hey! It’s working!” Prompto announced, and Ignis finally tore his gaze away when he remembered the other two, and Monica, and Cor. “The rain’s stopping!”

“I’ll be damned.”

Noctis had looked away to check the rain, too. A glance around, and up at the sky, and then back down to Ignis again. He was still smiling, just a tug at the corner of his mouth. “Burnt pastry is _not_ a happy memory, Specs.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He plucked his glasses from his face to wipe them clean again. “It seems to have been just happy enough.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook water from his gloves. “Maybe it’s the thought that counts?”

Cor started talking again, and it gave Ignis reason to look away and pretend the last minute or so hadn’t happened the way it had.

With his back turned, he didn’t notice the long look that Noctis gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /side eyes Noct whatchu thinkin
> 
>  
> 
> I know it's pretty much implied that Ignis's first meal for Noct was great, which is all well and good, but I can't imagine every batch of kid!Iggy's first attempts at Memory Lane Pastry came out well (saying this as someone who has made a modified version of them, lol)
> 
> bit of a gloss chapter, but still! more developments in the making... mhmm


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face

“Up and at ‘em, Highness.”

“You, too, Prompto.”

“Neehhh…”

“You’re not even the one who was up all night.”

“Actually, they both were. I heard them exclaiming over photos of the chocobos until early in the morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Come on, Noct.” Ignis tapped out a gentle three finger beat on the prince’s shoulder. “Rise and shine. It’s time to be awake.”

Noctis groaned, and then his eyes cracked open. “… ‘m awake,” he mumbled, pushing himself up.

“Prompto, up!” Gladio thumped Prompto’s back and crawled for the opening in the tent. “Gotta get to Lestallum. Iris is waiting.”

“Ow…! yeah…” Prompto yawned. “I know…” He rolled over and clumsily crawled after him. “I’m coming…”

Noct dropped back onto his sleeping bag again, arms wrapping around the pillow. “Sleepy…”

“ _Highness_ ,” Ignis said, entertained. “It’s very overcast, but you can sleep in the car if need be.” He brushed his hand along his shoulder, and smoothed the wrinkles down the back of his shirt. “Noct.”

He wondered if he’d get used to Noctis’s lack of body heat. To feel his skin being consistently so cool, to have the knowledge thrown so blatantly in his face that their prince wasn’t human any longer. At least, asides that, Ignis thought, smoothing the heel of his hand along his spine, he hadn’t changed too much.

He drank blood, too, of course, but that was completely evident.

“… Uh…”

And he was sounding incredibly awkward, as Ignis took notice of what he was doing. Stroking his hand along Noctis’s back. Not only touching him, but _intimately_. He pulled his hand away. “Apologies,” he said faintly. “Are you awake now?”

“U–Uh, um, yeah.” His arms tightened around the pillow. “I’ll… join you in a few minutes.” Otherwise, he didn’t move.

“Right.” By the _Six_. “Don’t go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Noctis said under his breath, but Ignis didn’t press it. He showed himself out of the tent instead, trying to pinpoint when _this_ had become such a problem he couldn’t seem to control.

… probably around the time a bloodied Noct had showed up on his doorstep.

He sighed, smoothing down his own shirt. “A great start to the day,” he murmured.

“What is?” Gladiolus came walking up, phone in hand.

“Nothing.”

“Huh.” He looked up. “What’s for breakfast?”

 _That_ was something normal enough that he could focus on without worrying about the consequences. Perhaps a breakfast tortilla… yes, that could work… he needed to check on ingredients…  

Noctis joined them a short time later, draped in an oversized hoodie. (They took no chances with early morning sunshine, grey skies or not.) He dropped into the chair next to Prompto to talk to him, and didn’t look up when Ignis served them breakfast. For the best, he supposed, to pretend that momentary lapse had never happened. He thought that he ought to apologize, but if Noctis was deflecting, he hated to bring it back up.

It was forgotten, then.

They were packing up their equipment when Ignis heard the whirring of the machinery above them; his hand stilled on the boot of the car and he squinted up in the morning sunlight. “Magitek engine!” he called. “Form up!”

How the empire kept finding them, he wasn’t sure. But their troopers were by no means pushovers; in fact, Gladio’s sword seemed to be the only thing to cut through their defenses to let everyone have a chance. Noctis switched out to a royal arm halfway through, face pinched in pain as he blew past him. When their numbers dwindled, Ignis was about to suggest he switch back to his engine blade when a flash of movement above caught his eye.

The engine, a lone figure standing behind the ramp. Dark, dark hair, just close enough to see a scar torn jagged across the figure’s face. Wait. Something was familiar, why couldn’t he place…

“What are you two gawking at?” Gladio asked.

Noctis was staring, too.

“… It’s the– that person.”

“Huh?”

“It’s them,” he repeated, staring at the engine. “The familiar who killed my mother… and attacked me… when I was a kid…”

 _Oh._ A face that Ignis couldn’t have ever seen, but one Noctis had described to him from his nightmares many times when they were children. That was why it had sat uncomfortably with him, looking up at–

Noctis was suddenly there and then gone, the faintest pulsing of glittering magic left behind in his wake as he warped up into the engine.

Ignis’s breath caught in his throat, and then he was shouting after him, taking off running to clear the distance between them and the machine. He couldn’t warp, none of them could, so none of them could help him– “Stupid!” He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until after the fact.

“Noct! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

His neck was craned back so far that it was aching, and he couldn’t see what was happening on the ship anyway. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except Noct throwing himself into danger and Ignis, being helpless on the ground. He did not like being _helpless_.

“Noct!!”

There was commotion. All three of them yelled when Noctis went flying from the ship; then he caught himself with a mid-air warp, flashing back to the fight. The ramp went crashing down with a bang. Ignis watched tersely the brief scuffle that followed and then Noctis and the dark-haired familiar _both_ went flying off the ship.

“Highness! _Go!_ ” he ordered the other two. “Circle either side and come up around the back, _move!_ ” Then he was charging forward, heart thudding in his chest. Noctis had landed on top of his attacker, and they were both already up fighting. They were moving almost too fast for Ignis’s eyes to keep up.

By all rights, Noctis should be able to tear them apart–

– unless they had been blooded, too.

“Gladio!” he called. “Possibility they’re a vamp now! Prompto!” He grabbed Noctis’s arm and swung him out of the way, parrying the familiar’s blow with one of his daggers. Gladio sliced at them, and they flickered away. Ignis wrenched the pack strapped to his ankle free, tossing it to the blonde. “Silver bullets!”

“Get off of me!” Noctis snarled.

Ignis thought his hand might bruise from where Noctis wrenched it away. It was unimportant. “Highness, you need to–”

“My mother!” Noctis yelled. He was, at least, dodging the familiar’s blows even if he was rarely landing them. “My _mother_ , Ignis!”

“I understand–”

“You _don’t_!”

 _I do,_ he thought miserably, but could only let it be short-lived when he kicked a dagger into the familiar’s side and they fell back, screeching.

“Prompto, now!” Gladio yelled.

“Duck!”

Ignis lurched forward and bodily tackled Noctis about the waist, forcing both of them to the ground. He had underestimated how difficult it was to fight a vampire whilst trying not to injure the _other_ vampire. Especially when the _other_ vampire refused to stop moving– If he took a stray bullet, even just a graze, those bullets were _pure_ silver–

_“Get off of me!”_

“Stay _still_. Highness,” he added, clipped. He was aching, and Noctis’s struggling was dangerous to a human. Noctis fighting at all was dangerous to a human, if he let the fight get the better of him. He already _had_. This had to end quickly–

Noct sent him rolling off with enough force to promise bruises again. He was tail over tea kettle until the world righted itself in time to see Noctis summon the Armiger and rush at the familiar. _Damn_ –

“Prompto,” Gladio yelled, “can you–”

“Not with Noct in the way!”

“Noct, you _idiot_ , you need to stay back!”

“I’m a vampire, I can fight better than you all ca–”

He landed, hard, a good thirty feet away. And didn’t get back up like he had been.

_“Highness!”_

“Noct!”

“Iggy, now!”

Throwing himself back to his feet, he charged forward while the familiar’s back was turned. Forced his blade into their chest just as they turned. Gladiolus came up behind, Ignis passed over his other blade and Gladio locked it around their throat and _pulled_.

Prompto made a retching noise behind them as the creature’s head bounced to the ground. Ignis’s stomach was empathizing. Breathing hard and covered in a spray of hot and sticky blood, only deterred by the fact that Noctis hadn’t joined them yet.

He wrenched his blade free. They both vanished into the ether, and Ignis took off running for Noctis.

He’d gotten back up, somewhat at least, and was looking relatively unharmed. Ignis was about to clear the last of the distance between them, the other two hot on his heels… and then he noticed the look on Noct’s face, the tears in his eyes, and watched as he put his face in hands. Ignis drew to a halt.

… yes, he understood, to an extent. Truly.

He caught the back of Prompto’s shirt to pull him back, and held up a hand to Gladio to stop him. _Give him a moment,_ he mouthed.

Grieving.

Something they all needed to take the time to do. It would be the best kind of healing they could have right now, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this didn't happen in game until later, and I didn't realize it until I rewatched Brotherhood but I was already too involved to change it without altering a hundred things (no, the marilith attack did not happen this verse. It was all vampires and familiars, but more on that in the future)
> 
> got a hell of a migraine so HOPEFULLY this isn't horribly messy but I wanted to get a chapter out on the anniversary so HAPPY ANNIVERSARY (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyshire Glacial Grotto

Who had sent– and who had sired– the familiar from Noctis’s past would continue to be a lingering mystery. After a brief break, they were on to Lestallum all the same. Ignis had gone to wash and change, despite Noctis’s apparent lack of desire for blood that had belonged to a vampire, and they were all waiting at the Regalia by the time that Noctis came back. Eyes red and swollen, voice thick, but he had muttered a thanks them all before climbing into the car. He’d slept for awhile, and had offered to drive the rest of the way upon waking. None of them mentioned the moments immediately following the battle.

Lestallum was hot. A sudden overcast atmosphere or rain would have been amiss in the sunny city, even if Noct had been able to control the weather any better. He really couldn’t; it was moot. Or perhaps wishful thinking. It was only slightly too warm for his tastes, although he wouldn’t complain. Iris had expressed interest in going out with him to explore the town; they chose late evening, a time where, anywhere else, the sun’s rays would either be gone or weak enough for Noctis to stand for a short time. They had come back earlier than Ignis had expected. Noctis had smiled until he had closed their suite door behind them, and then nearly collapsed on the spot. The burns had, evidently, been worth not telling her ‘no’.

“You could stand to be a little more selfish,” Ignis had said, pressing a cold cloth to a burn against the inside of his arm.

“Like you couldn’t,” Noct had retorted, and Ignis hadn’t understood the look he gave him.

Young Talcott was the one to inform them of the next royal tomb, and it was hidden away under a waterfall, no less. The spray felt blissfully cool after the heat of Lestallum and although Noctis’s burns had already healed by the time they visited, he looked much more pleased to be _here_ rather than _there_. (It was a nice town, honestly. But for Noctis, Ignis expected, the press of both people and sunshine was likely akin to torture.)

“Oh, for– it’s so _cold_ ,” Prompto whined, rubbing his bare arms. “I thought it’d be hot here, after Lestallum. I want my jacket. Let’s go back. Can we go back? Please?”

“Nuh uh.” Gladio slung an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll keep you warm, how’s that?”

“Why’s it gotta be you saying that to me…”

“I don’t see you pulling away.”

“Well, no! You’re like a space heater! You should give me your jacket!”

“So I can be shirtless? Hell no.”

“Come on, you’re bulkier, you’ll be warmer longer even without it!”

“I’m _what_?”

“Is it cold?” Noctis asked Ignis, edging around a pillar of ice. “I mean, I can tell it is, but _this_ cold?”

“It’s a bit chilly.”

“A bit chilly is how _I_ feel. It must be freezing.” He made a face, looking at Ignis and then back at the two lagging behind. “We can go back, if you want. We’re not in a big hurry or anything.”

“The colder we are, the faster we want to get this done. I say stay.”

“I’m fine for now, myself.” Nothing he couldn’t tolerate for a time.

“Ughhh… fine… if you get a Promptosicle, don’t blame me…”

Noctis huffed a laugh, and kept moving.

It was slow going. Everything was covered in ice. More than once the floor was at such an incline they could do nothing but let gravity slide them down. Ignis worried about sprained ankles and frostbite as the tunnels wound on.

“Enemies! This place _must_ be new!”

“Or the enemies are just moving.” The small creatures went down with just a few swipes of Gladio’s blade.

“Specs. This something you can cook with?” Noctis was crouched on the overhang, hand brushing through what looked like a small patch of herbs.

“Medicinal?” Ignis wandered over. “Or perhaps just for flavoring…” He wouldn’t find this species anywhere else, that was certain.

He was still focusing on picking the best ones out when Noctis turned his head. His brows furrowed.

Ignis’s hand paused on the plants. “What is it?”

“Something moving.” He stood up. “No… ice. It’s the ice. Cracking.” He stopped, and then looked down at the ice beneath their feet. “… move. Move!”

Ignis’s reflexes were fast. Noctis’s were even moreso, and still the prince only managed to grab his arm before the ice gave way. Then they were in freefall, with only Prompto and Gladio’s shouts reaching through the darkness.

 

 

“– nis. Ignis!”

Ignis came awake too fast, blackness exploding into the color of ice and frost. His head was aching. He touched at his scalp and his fingers came away wet. Then he looked around, eyes settling on the face of his companion. “Noct…? Are you hurt…?” He pushed himself upright, and was pleased to manage it without any severe effects. He seemed to have hit his head, but hopefully the wound was only superficial.

“No.” Noctis looked at him, eyes gleaming ever so slightly in the semi-darkness. “Your head. It’s only a scratch. Not enough blood, but you have to have hit it. Are _you_ alright?”

“Yes.” He thought he was confident enough in that, sitting at least. “Just a bump and bruise.” He pulled a glove off and pressed his fingers more firmly against the cut. It was smarting, but it didn’t seem to be too deep. It was barely bleeding for a head wound, anyway. “Where are the others?”

Noct shook his head. “I don’t know.” He fell back onto his behind to sit properly, bracing his hands against the ground. “We fell. It didn’t seem too far, but they can’t hear me. And I can’t hear them, which… shouldn’t be right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He pressed his back against the tunnel wall, and then regretted it as a burst of icy cold dragged down his spine. “Give me a moment to get my bearings back. Do you still have your light? I seem to have lost mine.”

“Um… where is… oh.” He rolled over and crawled a few feet away, snatching the small device from the snow. Light, feeble as it was, flared up around them. “Here. Thought I lost mine, too. _Damn_ , I should have _heard_ …”

“Noct.”

“I wasn’t paying attention, it was just background noise…”

“No,” he interrupted more firmly. “If you weren’t a vampire, we still would have fallen. It makes no difference. It would have broken anyway. Our combined weight probably did it.”

“Yes, but I _am_ a vampire so I should have noticed,” he muttered. “What else good is _being_ a vampire if I can’t use my _senses_ to figure this shit out?” Before Ignis could protest further, Noctis raised his voice and continued. “You think there’s a way out?”

“Certainly,” he said. He wasn’t certain. He carefully edged himself back to his feet. “What goes down, must go up.”

“That is _so_ not the saying.” He handed over the light, which Ignis clipped to his shirt. “And it doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Don’t overthink it,” he said lightly, trying to smile. He was tired. He was cold. He was a little achy, now. The chances of finding the royal arm today seemed lost, just like they were. “Ready to do some reconnaissance?”

“Sure.”

There would be no talking Noctis out of his funk for now. Maybe he _should_ have noticed ahead of time, but he hadn’t, and there was no point crying over spilled milk. Or, in this case, broken ice. They needed to focus on getting out, first and foremost.

A little achy turned out to be a lot achy, the longer they walked and the steeper the incline got. His head was still aching. One of his ankles had started twinging. When they came to something of a clearing, he suggested they stop and build a fire.

“It really is cold, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He was trying to check his skin for bruising in the flickering light, without being too obvious. “I wasn’t sure it’s been cold enough as to house all this ice, but… Maybe the use of magic? Or something to do with the royal arm.”

“Huh. I just hope the others are okay, too…”

“They were standing near the wall, so it’s likely that only the two of us fell.” As far as he could remember, anyhow. They had been near the wall while he and Noctis had been collecting ingredients. They had to be safe. “That’s good consolation, I think.” They needed to find their way out soon, though. They wouldn’t be able to take much more of this– _he_ wouldn’t, anyway, and Prompto and Gladio– he knew Noct didn’t feel the cold like they did, and his body temperature wasn’t as warm to touch, but surely if Noct wasn’t sitting clear on the other side of the fire, they could have…

Looking across at him, Noctis, sitting with his knees drawn up, face hidden in them. He must have felt Ignis’s gaze, because he looked up sharply, and then away just as quickly.

Ignis could pinpoint the moment when his pulse started to race. “You’re thirsty.” He was suddenly struck with the urge to fling himself to his feet and run; he was in a small, enclosed space with a hungry vampire and– old habits really did die hard. It was _Noctis_. He trusted him. But he couldn’t help the instinctive prickle of fear, just as he couldn’t help feeling horrible for it afterwards.

“No.” Noctis’s grip around his knees tightened. “… yes. We’ve been gone longer than I expected… you were bleeding and I was bleeding–”

“You were bleeding?”

“After we fell, it’s nothing, it’s already healed.”

Ignis frowned.

“I just… we’ve got to get out of here, and I’m getting even less capable. All I can smell is ice and smoke and _you_.”

His palms were sweating. He was about to make a reckless decision, he knew, but there was no second guessing it. There never was. Never with Noct. He tilted his head, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. “You can feed off of me.”

He was watching carefully, and he watched the remaining blood rush from Noctis’s face. _“No.”_

“You need blood,” Ignis said. His voice sounded steady. He was proud of that. “I’m the only thing here.”

“No! Are you crazy??”

 _Perhaps._ “You drink, get your strength back up, we have a better chance of getting out of here faster. Plus you eliminate my blood as an immediate distraction, and you’ll be able to focus.”

Noctis, on the other hand, looked like he was primed to flee himself, the more that Ignis spoke. “You’ll pass out!”

“Not if you don’t take too much.”

“You passed out the last time!”

“You stopped. And it was your first live feeding, of course it–”

“I only stopped because Gladio and Prompto would have made me!”

“They said they didn’t even touch you.”

“You’ll get sick!”

“Not immediately.”

“Oh my _God_. No. No way. I can’t do it to you again. _Why_ –”

“Because you need it, Noct.”

“And what about what _you_ need?”

 _Irrelevant_. It was always irrelevant, if it involved Noctis. Vampire or human. It didn’t matter. He was there to serve the prince. He would always be prepared to do so.

“Noct.”

The look on his face was haunted, but probably less so than it would be if he ended up attacking him without meaning to. “I don’t know if I can, Iggy.”

“You can.” _Much_ more confident sounding than he felt. He did believe he could control himself. But again, the feeling was so hard to shake. He’d been living with it since he was a child. He couldn’t let that stop him, though, so he got up and moved over to sit down next to Noctis.

Noctis made a noise, and sucked in a sharp breath then looked like he regretted it. “You’re not going to let this go.”

“I’m not going to force you.” Part of him reasoned he should have just nicked his skin to get the blood flowing himself, but ultimately, Noctis needed to make the choice himself, didn’t he? He still believed that. “But this is what you need. And want. Best to get it over with before it becomes intolerable.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered, and then, whether _need_ or _want_ prevailed, he twisted around on his knees to face him. “Stop me. _Please_ stop me, if… if I can’t…”

Ignis nodded. He was sure he likely wouldn’t be able to, if it got to that point. “Of course.”

“I’m sorry.”

Somehow, he managed to laugh while it felt like his heart was in his throat. “That’s a slightly premature apology, Noct.”

The prince didn’t reply. Instead, he braced a hand against Ignis’s shoulder, and then surprised him by proceeding to slide a hand into his hair to cradle the back of his head. Now his heart was really choking him. He tried to take steady breaths, and let his head drop to the side for better access. Noctis’s hair tickled his neck, and he couldn’t help but shiver.

“… you’re scared.”

His mouth was dry. “… yes.” It was probably best to be honest.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m not scared of _you_.” He had said it once before. It still stood firm.

Noctis’s breath was warm against his throat. His hands were heavy against his skin. He could nearly feel as he hesitated, mouth just above the skin at his neck, and he could see _and_ feel his labored breathing. He wanted, and _needed_ , and as Noctis’s nose brushed faintly against the line of his jugular, Ignis suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

Noctis’s fangs slipped into his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /EYES EMOJI INTENSIFIES


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the Six, Ignis has been so _stupid._

The best way he could describe it, he supposed, was… yes, pleasure from pain. And the pain lasted an even shorter time than the last feeding. Two points of pain that made him gasp even though he had been expecting it, and a tight, stinging sensation that sank down into his stomach and into his bones. It tore through his body and then became more refined… morphing back over to that honey thick sensation from before, knocking all feeling out of his limbs except pure and base _pleasure_.

If this was what it felt like to him, how did Noctis feel while actually _drinking_ his blood?

He was seized with questions he’d never thought about before. What did his blood taste like? Did everyone’s blood taste the same? Certainly not. Were all feedings this intense? Was this why people sold themselves off as familiars? Certainly so. How long would it take Noct to drain his body of blood? Would he _let_ him? (No.) Was Noct happy? _Ignis_ was.

Noctis’s nails were sharp against his scalp. Like imagined scenarios of fingers pulling at his hair. His body felt warm against him; imagined scenarios of being tangled beneath the blankets fast asleep. Noctis pressed closer, straddling one of Ignis’s knees. Ignis gripped his hands into fists. Imagined scenarios so very much like this, ashamed and aroused in turns. Tugging on his cock while thinking of the _prince of Lucis_.

“My God,” he blurted, and felt his face flame when he realized he’d said it out loud.

Noctis’s mouth disappeared from his neck in an instant. “What– Ignis– did I–”

“Nothing!” Was his voice really that breathless? He paused to draw in a lungful of oxygen, and pretended it didn't tremble when he let it out again. “Are you… better, now…?”

“Of course I am,” Noctis said softly. He didn’t move away. “Are you… are you okay?”

“Yes.” _Better than okay_ , but he didn’t say, and he wouldn’t have anyway. Because, a half second later, Noctis surprised him again by leaning forward the few inches to press his forehead against Ignis’s. _Oh Gods,_ he thought again faintly, but instinct had him smoothing a hand up Noctis’s back instead.

Noct must be as high as Ignis felt. He wouldn’t be this close, still, if he wasn’t. He was close enough to smell his shampoo, his cologne. _Him._ His eyes were still faintly pink, and Ignis could still feel the prickle of too-sharp nails against his scalp. Noctis slid his fingers through Ignis’s hair, and he felt like this must be a dream.

He was in love with the prince of Lucis– and had been for some time without realizing it, although he had probably been denying it for years– and to make matters worse, the prince of Lucis was a vampire. The very thing Ignis had been trained to hunt and kill in between his duties for Crownsguard.

His head was spinning. He knew it wasn’t from blood loss.

The fire cracked behind them. They both flinched; Ignis’s mind went back to the crack of the ice breaking before he reminded himself that they were safe. Noctis finally broke away to settle back next to him. His eyes were wary, too. They must be thinking the same thing. Hard not to be jumpy, he supposed.

He pushed himself up, and reached for his satchel. He had gauze and potions too, now that he thought about it. Good. They would… they needed to keep moving.

“Here.” Noctis took the gauze. “I’ll do it. You can wait until it’s stopped bleeding before you suggest we move on. At least.”

It was like he was reading his mind. It seemed like Noct knew him just as well as Ignis knew Noct. He quirked a feeble smile. “Very well.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, and unrolled the gauze.

 

 

They were reunited with the others shortly after leaving the clearing. Up, and up, and Noctis heard them before they saw them and ran ahead to catch up with them.

Prompto hadn’t noticed Ignis’s dubious injury at first; the collar of his shirt covered up most of the gauze. But Gladiolus _had_ noticed– which was natural, coming from a vampire hunter– and Ignis had, for the time, pretended he didn’t see the look he got because of it. They’d talk about it later, he was sure.

They had _all_ been glad to get back out into the sunshine. Even Noct, jacket held aloft over his head for cover. The royal arm would wait until another day.

One thing he _didn’t_ plan on sharing was just how exactly the feeding affected him, or the acceptance of his feelings towards the vampire who’d put his fangs into his neck.

Trust Gladio to pull up exactly what he didn’t want to talk about.

“So they say a vamp bite feels like sex.”

Ignis almost choked on his toothpaste. He hadn’t heard Gladio stop in the doorway, even if it was his fault for leaving it open. Noctis was asleep; the other two were already downstairs. They _had_ been. Except Gladiolus was back, now, and Ignis hadn’t noticed. Made his own bed, there.

He spit into the sink and straightened up, glancing over his shoulder. “What is it you’re asking?”

“Is it true?”

Ignis almost sighed in exasperation. He covered with clearing his throat instead. Cupping his hands under the tap, he met Gladio’s gaze in the mirror. “I wouldn’t know if it compares to that.”

“Oh, for f– I know _that_ ,” Gladio retorted. “But you’ve rubbed one off before, you know the general feeling.”

The general feeling. Ignis rinsed and spit and dried his hands. “It’s a rush, but I wouldn’t call it the same.” It wasn’t the same as having a hand on yourself, no. It was infinite times better while not feeling the same way at all. He couldn’t describe it, exactly, and he didn’t want to. “You experience euphoria, sometimes, before death. Maybe that’s the reason people think it’s similar to the pleasure of sex?”

“Don’t pull that euphoria crap. I saw you after the first time. You were very… _bone_ less.”

He rolled his eyes, and still had to repress a smile. “Intriguing choice of words.”

“I know how you feel about him.”

Just like that, he was smiling no longer. He didn’t want to talk about that, either. He would rather ruminate on his lack of experience with most things of a sexual nature. Regardless of how he _did_ feel about Noctis, those were things that could _not_ be discussed, even amongst friends.

“Don’t have to look so upset. ’s just me.”

“Regardless,” he said shortly, hands moving to collect his things. “Any feelings on the matter are baseless and unwanted.”

_“Unwanted?”_

“No, I– you know what I meant.” Never unwanted. Not like that. Unwanted in the sense that he didn’t want this complication, he didn’t want to bother Noctis or anyone else with these feelings. But to not feel this way for the prince… that would be disheartening. Even if the fact that it had to remain secret was unfortunate enough on its own.

“You should tell him.”

“I cannot.”

His mind kept going back to their foreheads touching, and Noctis’s hand in his hair. Keeping it a secret might already be in vain, but Noct hadn’t said anything since then, and it had been three days now. That was all for the better, even if a part of Ignis was… disappointed.

“Why not? He looks at you like you’re damn fine, sometimes. You could be missing out, Iggy.”

 _Sometimes?_ He didn’t know whether that was good or bad. “You know why not.”

“Lunafreya? Yeah, that’s an arranged marriage,” Gladio said, crossing his arms. “Don’t know that the kid likes her that way, do you?”

“And yet they _are_ getting married.”

“So?”

Ignis stared. “What do you propose?”

Gladio shrugged. “You’re the smart one, Iggy, figure it out.”

“Anything that I can think of besmirches the name of both prince and Oracle,” he said. “Don’t tell him, Gladio. Please.” He stopped in the doorway and looked at him closely.

Gladio looked back at him even _more_ closely. “I won’t,” he said, dropping his crossed arms. “That’s your thing. But don’t regret it if you don’t do it. You never know, right?”

“So they say,” he said faintly, and was relieved when Gladio didn’t push it further. He didn’t want to wake Noct up by speaking aloud in the bedroom, and he didn’t want to keep talking about it, anyway.

_Don’t regret it if you don’t do it._

Easier said than done, he thought, brushing his hand over the healing bite on his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man can you smell that ust getting stronger ~~in this short filler chapter~~
> 
>  ~~~~(Also before anyone gets the wrong idea this isn't a Luna hate zone. It will never be a Luna hate zone. Clearly there's complications and they'll be addressed because you know that isn't something they could both ignore *finger peace sign*)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deterioration, or something of the sort.

When they went back to retrieve the royal arm in the grotto, they were rewarded with success… and yet, it was still tainted with failure.

Noctis had collapsed the instant they walked out of the cavern, a nightmarish cry leaving his lips and his hands clutching his head. He’d been incoherent for a moment, Ignis and Prompto both with a hand on his shoulders, and then another moment longer, and then he had started mumbling about the Disc of Cauthess.

Ignis had his suspicions– only one, actually– but they had gone back to Lestallum to check in first all the same. The headache seemed to come and go in the few hours in between, twice a groan and once nearly knocking him off his feet when they were back in Lestallum. Gladio had ushered him upstairs before Iris could get too close, too clingy, and Ignis and Prompto had followed afterwards.

“You think he’s okay? It’s not, I dunno, something to do with his vampirism?”

“No… the timing is suspect, and so is what he is seeing in those visions.”

“The Disc?”

“Hm. We all know who caught the meteor.”

“Oooh, Titan.”

“Yes… The Archaean’s calling, it seems.”

“Well… maybe he just _really_ wants to give Noct his blessing? That’s possible, yeah?”

Ignis smiled wryly. “We can hope,” he said, although he suspected it was less to do with the Astral’s desire to give Noctis their blessing as it was they were aware a new king had to rise to power. A new king who happened not to be human, who was an abomination in the eyes of the gods.

He very much kept those thoughts to himself, but he found himself wondering how the Astrals were going to react to Noctis’s sudden transformation from what they might have expected. The gods knew all; they would see, and they would know. But how they reacted… remained to be seen.

They would find out soon enough. Ignis stocked up on curatives in the meantime, and brushed up on his lore later that evening.

He was just about to call it a night, eyelids heavy from reading, when Noct let himself back into the suite. He had free reign of his nights, especially given Lestallum’s sunlight during the day, and they had only just started letting him completely to himself. Not that they could stop him. _They_ had to sleep at night.

“You’re still up.”

“Just doing a bit of reading, is all.” He put his phone down on the table. “I’m about to turn in, actually. How’s the town?”

“Hot.” He kicked his shoes off. “Which is saying something, coming from m–” He broke off with a strangled hiss, hands flying to his head.

His exhaustion was forgotten. Ignis pushed himself to his feet, taking the prince’s arm in hand to steady him. “Another headache?” It was an obvious question.

“Ah– y– yeah. Jeez, that hurts…”

That was _also_ saying something, coming from him. “Here, come sit down.” He helped him to the end of the unoccupied bed, taking care not to disturb Prompto or Gladio already asleep in the other. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

Noctis’s head was in his hands when he returned, but he didn’t argue about gulping down the cold water as Ignis watched, frowning. He wondered if this was typical of the Archaean’s call. He hadn’t been able to find many specifics on that, exactly. Noctis drank the last of the water and his fingers clung to the glass. Ignis’s frown deepened.

“Do you need blood?”

“No.” Noctis’s shoulders were slumped. “I’m not… I mean, I’m in pain, but it’s not… not yet.” He handed the glass back to Ignis. “It’s… kind of been taking a lot out of me the past few days.”

 _Few days._ “How long have these headaches been happening?”

Noctis shrugged, and then looked away. “Dunno. Since we got to Lestallum.”

That had been over a week ago, now. _“Noct.”_

“It wasn’t like this!” he tacked on, and then lowered his voice when Prompto rolled over. “It didn’t hurt as bad, I thought it was just a normal headache. Or the vampirism. Not the _Archaean_ calling me.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to sigh. He didn’t succeed. What was done was done. “Tell me next time.” He had also slipped into a tone of lecture without intending to.

Noct heard it, too. “Yes, _Mother_.”

“This is important, Noct, your duty as king–”

“I _know_ –” He cringed again. The lecture could wait.

“Lay down,” he said instead, gesturing him up the bed. “At least rest until it passes.”

Tellingly, Noctis didn’t argue. He scooted back on the bed until he could drop his head back into the pillows, throwing his arms over his eyes. The fans rustled his hair. Ignis sighed again.

He couldn’t help but be over concerned; it was in his nature and it always seemed to run rampant when it involved the prince hurting. And… he was also aware that lecturing him would get him nowhere, generally speaking. It would only cause more headaches.

Hopefully, for now, Noct would try to rest until the latest flare-up lessened, and then they could be off to the Disc tomorrow. However they were supposed to get there with the empire’s presence, but that was a question for tomorrow. They would get there, somehow.

He went to brush his teeth and draw the curtains, turning off the final lamp on in the room before he could crawl into bed himself. “You can turn this back on when you get up.”

“It’s fine. I can see fine without it.” He hadn’t moved his arms. “… sorry.”

Ignis’s fingers stilled folding his glasses; he smiled faintly as he set them on the nightstand. “I am as well.” He pulled the sheets back on his side. “I just worry.”

“Me, too,” Noctis mumbled, and then rolled onto his side to watch as Ignis slid into bed. “What do you think the gods are gonna be like?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Yeah, you could.”

He had him. “Rest,” he said, a little more firmly instead. “We will cross that hurdle when we get there.” And he didn’t care to share his thoughts on how the gods might react, truth be told. There was no point in panicking beforehand, and there was no stopping the meetings regardless. What would happen would happen, right?

… he’d lose sleep over it, tonight.

“Yeah, yeah.” Noct wrapped his arms around the pillow. “You too, Specs. Get some sleep.”

Ignis didn’t often fall asleep to the press of Noctis in his personal space– nocturnal princes tended to limit it– but surprisingly, he had no trouble dozing off, anyway.

 

  

A vague noise– and still one recognizable as pain– dragged him out of sleep. Or it did just enough for him to reach out a questing hand for Noctis’s shoulder. He tried to pose a question, but it came out a mumble. So much for losing sleep worrying. He couldn’t even come back to full consciousness.

He made another, brief, valiant attempt at conversation before gathering Noct close to his side; Noct made a noise in return and Ignis hummed in sleepy acknowledgment that he had heard him. Vaguely.

He drifted back into the darkness before he could try to think it through.

 

  

Morning came slowly, and later than usual. The curtains only blocked out so much light, and it was shining in on the– empty– second bed next to theirs. Had they already gone down to breakfast…? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off? Hadn’t he set it? Or had he forgotten in the debacle with Noctis? And speaking of Noctis…

… why was he tucked up against his chest, dark hair tickling Ignis’s nose when he tilted his head down? Why was Ignis’s arm draped about his waist? When had that happened? Cuddling happened, every night, to some degree. It was the hazard of fitting four people into a tent, or a camper, or two beds, and Ignis didn’t mind. But not like this. None of them ever ended up so tangled up.

Yet… he still didn’t mind. In fact he didn’t mind a little bit _too_ much, and he tried not to let himself embarrass over uncontrollable morning reactions. It was natural, and had nothing to do with the prince, breathing slow and deep, curled up into him.

So, why then, did he feel so deeply and profoundly unhappy thinking that? Perhaps because he liked to think honesty was the best policy, especially with oneself. It was difficult to rationalize that he was aroused because the prince of Lucis had curled up against him in search of comfort, though. It was entirely improper.

So was ducking his head and breathing in the smell of Noctis’s hair, and sweeping his fingers down the nodules of his spine, too, and he still couldn’t help himself. He oughtn’t take advantage of the prince’s state of sleep, or his closeness, or his _friendship_ and need of companionship when he was struggling under the weight of the loss of his humanity, his city, his father, and his impending ascension to king. Noct didn’t intend to play into his affections. Ignis was, unfortunately, just that pathetic to have it feel as if he was.

There were no affections to be shared, it was as simple as that. Ignis still dropped his lips into Noctis’s hair in the briefest moment of weakness and want, and closed his eyes before moving to remove himself from his embrace.

A quick glance at his phone; it was just past nine. Shower, shave, and breakfast, and they would need to be on the road during the daylight to try and search out a way to meet the Archaean. The others should have woken him. Knowing Prompto, Ignis was certain there was now going to be a rather suspect photo of him and Noct curled up in bed together. He would have to weather the teasing for a week or so. Little could they know– Prompto, at least– how close to home that teasing would come.

… He’d thought about it, before, being tangled up in bed with Noctis. Not only in the carnal sense, although he’d had _those_ thoughts as well. But merely lazing in bed, one of the prince’s favorite things, being able to hold him very much like this morning, to drop kisses into his hair and hang onto him with every ounce of strength in his body… Gods, wouldn’t that be picturesque? It was unlikely, anyway: he slept at night, and Noctis during the day, usually. The headache had caused last night’s change of routine. It wouldn’t happen again, save in his fantasies.

Fantasies, he thought with an idle frown. The water was hot as he stepped into the shower, but he couldn’t feel his muscles relax. Those fantasies would get him into trouble. Nevermind laying with the prince, but imagining the scenarios of allowing himself to be thoroughly _fucked_ by the prince. Of being ordered to kneel, summoned to the bed, pulled into a blind alley and pinned with gloved hands against the wall, all the while a practised hand around his cock and a voice urging him to _let go_.

His own hand took up that imaginary grip, and he very quietly hissed beneath the spray of the shower. Shower, shave, breakfast– as if he could accomplish anything beyond working his hand along his cock at the thought of Noct doing those things to him. Of doing those things to _Noct_ , if he was permitted it.

He wouldn’t be. But such were fantasies, spurred on by the phantom touch of Noctis’s breath against his collarbone and his fangs in his neck and the smell of the prince’s hair. The fleeting moment of thinking it _was_ permitted. Of Noct gasping his name as he reached climax, and the shudder that would tear through Ignis when he did–

He was quick and efficient, he liked to think. Gladiolus would assuredly call him _easy_. Ignis didn’t mind. He braced both hands against the shower wall to hold his balance until his legs would stop shaking, and pressed his forehead against the tile until he could hear anything past the pounding in his chest.

Shower. Shave. Breakfast. Chase away these thoughts before they were summoned back into his dreams and he woke up with an even more embarrassing response. Do not think about the prince, curled up in the bedroom now, shirt rucked up, hair a mess, lips parted– godsdammit. ( _Apologies_ , he thought vaguely, eyes flicking heavenward.) He turned the water a touch cooler than he was used to, and set to scrubbing at his skin.

Quick and efficient notwithstanding, they were behind schedule and he’d forgotten his toiletries in his bag. He walked smack bang into Noctis when he opened the bathroom door.

Noctis stumbled forward; Ignis instinctively put out a hand to steady him and then his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Noct?” It wasn’t like him to be awake until actually awoken.

“I, uh, sorry, I was going to brush my teeth but I heard you in the shower.”

He could feel the blood drain from his face. The sudden absence of heat after a warm shower was… interesting.

“I mean, I figured it was you,” Noctis said.

 _Oh._ “So it was.” His hair was dripping water down his neck. He looked at Noctis for a moment and then licked his lips to speak again. “I’ll be out in a few minutes, but you can go ahead if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s fine.” He turned away, trailing for the chair furthest from the window. “Not going anywhere.” He dropped into it and yawned. Ignis must have imagined that his cheeks looked faintly pink.

“Right.” He gathered up his forgotten things. “See about having breakfast if you need it.”

Noctis waved a hand in acknowledgment, and Ignis locked the bathroom door behind him. And slumped back against it, scrubbing the heel of his hand against the crease between his eyebrows.

_Damn._

Just how much longer would he be able to keep up this facade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm a serious writer but all I want to do is put 1000 eyes emojis in my end notes every time but uh. place your bets on how long Ignis can keep his head above the water now, I guess? :D
> 
> ... that wasn't a play on the Episode Ignis trailer but yknow. I'll see you guys on the other side of the dlc come scream at me on tumblr @ivelostmyspectacles


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titan.

By all rights, it didn’t look like a trap, so why did he still feel prepared to frogmarch the prince from the ruins and right back into the car? He didn’t trust Ardyn as far as he could throw him, which was to say: not at all. He had gotten them past the imperial blockade with all but a simple _knock knock!_ , but Ignis was left wondering what kind of joke this was and dreading the punchline. He had no particular reason of feeling that way… it was just a gut feeling. But it had brought them to a tomb, and another royal arm, and hopefully that would quell Titan’s rumblings.

No sooner had he thought that, the earth started shaking again. “Get back!” He watched Noctis collapse to his knees with the headache and would have lunged forward to haul him back if Gladio hadn’t beaten him to it; the next thing he knew, he was watching both of them vanish over the edge of the crumbling ruins while still having enough terrified presence of mind to grab Prompto by the arm and pull him back.

When the shaking had stopped, he was immediately back on his feet, moving as quickly as he dared on the new incline and shouting their names into the abyss below. When they both called back that they were okay, Ignis felt his legs go weak. It was all he could do to keep standing, just then, but they had to reconvene. Clearly, whatever Titan wanted required a direct audience, and they needed to be at full power– together– to meet him.

“Is it getting hotter the further we go… or is it just me?”

“Well, we _are_ getting closer to the meteor.” His back was drenched in sweat. His sleeves had long since been pushed up.

“But isn’t it, like, supposed to get _cooler_ the further underground you go?”

“Not in this case, I don’t think.” He wondered how much further, and where this path would lead them to. “Given that–” Another crack of the earth, and expected shaking. “Hold on!”

“A–Ah! Doesn’t this guy ever quit?!”

Ignis gritted his teeth, wanting to slam his eyes closed until the tremors stopped to avoid seeing what he knew he would see tilting his head up. The Archaean, awake, destroying the very bed where he slumbered all of these years. Likely trying to destroy Noctis in trying to prove his worth, and Ignis’s stomach would have wrenched from that thought alone. But staring up at the Archaean, at one of the Six themselves, it was… beyond humbling. And terrifying. His heart was in his throat, and the trembling of the earth wasn’t stopping. “We need to keep moving!” he yelled, twisting around to look at Prompto. “We need to get to Noct! Even Gladio can’t hold off the Archaean for long!”

“Y–Yeah!” He was about to consider their route of escape when Prompto continued. “Hey, what about here? I need a boost, but we might be able to see better!”

“Right!” It was even slower going despite his instincts urging him to _run, escape, flee_. He had to brace a shoulder against the rock wall to link his hands together for Prompto. “Now!”

“Upsy- _daisy!_ ”

The shaking was making him nauseous. Or maybe it was the worry, or perhaps a combination of both. He waited for Prompto to extend a hand and scrambled his way up. Silence descended just as he hit the top, and the rocks stopped moving. It was just as well; Prompto had fallen to his knees and Ignis sank down to his own as the heat and exhaustion and the earthquakes started to take a toll. There was smoke and dust in the air, and he had to gasp to get his breath back.

“That was– this is– isn’t he supposed to _like_ Noct?!”

Ignis drew in another gasping breath. “Evidently not.” He looked up for Titan, but even as the dust cleared there were more important matters at hand: magitek engines, lights burning bright through the gloom. _“Now?”_ he bit off, scrabbling for his phone in his pocket.

“What… oh no. What are they doing here?! Was it Ardyn?”

Ignis shook his head. He didn’t know. He was trying to hear over the static in the phone, praying that the call would go through. He very nearly felt weak from relief when it did. “Noct!”

His relief was short-lived. He could barely understand what he was saying, and he wasn’t certain if he got his warning across before the line cut out. He didn’t call back. It was wasting time, and a likely distraction. “We need to keep moving,” he said to Prompto, and helped him back to his feet.

“Do you think he heard you?”

“I’m not sure.” He pushed his hair out of his face. He needed to focus on the incline in front of them.

“Well... They’ll be okay! Gladio’s with him. He’ll keep him safe.”

“I know.” Whatever Gladiolus’s feelings were about the prince’s vampirism, whatever the apprehension, Ignis knew that. He was the King’s Shield. He would die for him. But… _if that means protecting you from yourself…_

No. He shook his head, sliding a little in his haste.

“Iggy! Careful!”

“Apologies.” He kept moving.

“… He’ll be okay,” Prompto said, after a moment of silence. “Like, I know it’s in your nature to worry about him, but…”

“I worry about all of us,” Ignis said faintly. He still didn’t look up.

“Yeah, but you worry about him more.”

It was true. But he was the _prince_ , he warranted some further concern.

“I’m jealous of you guys, sometimes,” Prompto muttered.

Now he _did_ look around. “Jealous?” he repeated. “Of Noctis and I?”

“Uh, _yeah_?”

“Why?”

“I dunno, you just have something…” Prompto frowned. Evidently he couldn’t find his words; he shrugged a moment later. “I dunno, _special_.”

“Special?”

“You’ve known each other since you were kids, little kids. I’ve only known him since– since high school, yeah?” Prompto continued. “But you’ve been together a lot longer than that. He was, what, three? Four? That’s a lifetime, and you’re still at each other’s sides.”

“Sixteen years isn’t precisely a lifetime,” Ignis replied, but… it really had been a long time, hadn’t it? It felt like it had gone by in the blink of an eye. And he had no plans on going anywhere in the future. Always had his back, he had told Noct. _Always_.

“But it kind of is?” Prompto said. “You’d do anything for him. _He’d_ do anything for you. So yeah. A little jealous sometimes.” He laughed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m glad! Don’t get me wrong! Noct’s never really been good at the friends thing, has he?”

Also true. “No,” he said softly. “He hasn’t.” And then, dragging his eyes from the rocks again. “But don’t underestimate yourself, Prompto. He cares for you. We all do.”

“Wow, I’m _such_ a lucky guy!” Prompto beamed, and Ignis had to guide him out of the way of a pillar of rock. “No, really, though. It just feels like you guys are… bigger, somehow.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that. Bigger? Bigger than… friendship? Did Prompto understand more about the subtleties of Ignis’s feelings, the way that Gladio did? Probably… not. He could sense _something_ , though. Maybe he thought it was more of a familial bond. Ignis wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or bad. “Thank you,” he said, instead. “We’d all give hearth and home for the prince, though.”

“That’s true.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re so good to him, Iggy.”

“You’re quite adequate yourself,” Ignis teased gently.

“Hey! Only _adequate_?! What are you sayi– Noct!!”

His head snapped up, swinging around to follow Prompto’s gaze. And there was Noctis, fighting on his own, parrying Titan’s attack even as Ignis watched. Barely. “Prompto! On me!” He summoned his blades from the ether and took off running.

“But where’s Gladio?!”

He didn’t know. He was certain that he was fine– he _had_ to be– and right now their priority was Noctis.

“I’ll take this way!”

“Be careful!”

“When am I not!” His gun appeared and he split off from Ignis, leaving him crashing through the crush of imperial soldiers converging on both Titan and Noctis.

“Did you miss us?”

“Highness! It’s good to see you safe.”

Noctis staggered back against Ignis as he swiped a soldier away. “I could have handled it!”

“Certainly.” Ignis pressed a potion into his hand. “Take care.”

“Got it.”

“Noct!”

“Coming!”

The battle was rough. Their increased level of fighting meant next to nothing in the face of a battle with a _god_. There were too many points of action. One moment, he was being swept off his feet by imperial soldiers and the next, he was watching the fading remains of Noctis’s warp light be replaced by another as he cut through the horde with the newest royal arm draining the light from his eyes.

Gladio came crashing in at just the right time; all of them went to the ground when Titan’s hand slammed into the side of the rocks. They were getting nowhere like this! Perhaps if they could do a series of physical damage on Titan, then follow up with subsequent magic all at once… it was worth a try. They needed to coordinate.

“Noct! I have an idea! Focus your attacks on Titan, then follow my lead!”

“Got it!”

It was just a matter of doing enough damage… Titan had no vulnerabilities that he could find, so it was up to them to create one. When he had dragged the orb of ice from his pouch, it was frigidly cold, bleeding through the thick fabric of his gloves to numb the tips of his fingers. “Blizzara! _Now!_ ”

He tossed the sphere and threw his arm up in front of his face; the ice still blasted into him, making him stagger back and deafening him beyond the whistle of freezing wind. This time, when the frost cleared, Noct was standing with blade still poised, and Titan’s arm had shattered into thousands of pieces.

They had done it.

… _what_ had they done? Was this the way to earning the way to the Astral’s favor? Was this what they were _supposed_ to do? He knew the answer, but it didn’t make it seem any less… irreverent.

Even when Titan spoke to Noctis about Lunafreya, and appeared to give them one last attempt at protecting them from the imperial soldiers… or was it perhaps another attempt to kill them all? _Especially_ then.

And especially when none other than their ‘Ardyn’ turned out to be the Chancellor of the Niflheim army. Ardyn Izunia– how had he not _known_? They had been _right_ not to trust him. But…

“Dying here is not an option. We have no choice, Noct.”

Noctis was struggling under the toll the battle had taken. Only because the Imperial Chancellor was watching, Ignis didn’t step over to offer a shoulder to lean on. But he was barely able to lift his head to respond, pale beneath the dirt and blood smeared onto his skin. “… I know,” he said softly, and they boarded the Chancellor’s airship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im hungover from the dlc ~~(no kidding my 23 year old ass pulled the first all nighter of my life and don't regret it but I feel like s h i t make good choices kids)~~
> 
>  ~~~~as for actual story content, I'm trying not to focus TOO much on the things we get to experience in game insofar as the emotions Iggy feels behind them. We've played the game, we know the events that happen, so in glazing over, it gives me more time to actually shell out everything else going on. Plus this fic is already a monster if I did a complete blow by blow we'd be here for ten years imeanwhat


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exhaustion sets in.

Ignis had been silently praying to be taken to Lestallum, but he should have known the Chancellor wouldn’t make things easy for them. Even if the man had no idea _why_ they needed to be somewhere with a stock of blood waiting them.

 _“My, my. Your friend is looking awfully peaky. Is he quite alright?”_ Ardyn had remarked. They had been on the way out from the crumbling Disc, Noctis folded to the floor in the airship with Prompto knelt at his side and Ignis and Gladio surrounding him on their feet. They had even less reason to trust Ardyn now. They hadn’t been able to let their guard down.

 _“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you pick a fight with a god,”_ Gladio had retorted, before Noctis could even try to respond.

Ardyn had only smiled, smiled like he had known. Ignis had been ever so glad to have his weapons at his fingertips, if need be.

It hadn’t, and Ardyn dropped them off about a mile from the chocobo post in full daylight. They had waited until he had vanished beyond the ramp in the airship before Ignis had thrown his jacket over Noct and ushered him towards the outpost. He’d said he was fine, and continued to say it right up until the point where he all but fell into the camper awaiting them. The burns weren’t severe, but it was just another drop in the bucket in the list of things gone wrong. Altogether, it wasn’t good.

“You got him?”

“I’ve got him,” he said, catching the door before it could swing shut. “Some space, please.”

“… Gotcha. I’m getting a drink. Hope they’ve got something besides these damn green smoothies…”

“But… I mean… I guess…”

Prompto sounded apprehensive, but Ignis didn’t wait to appease him. He let the door fall on his hesitation and strode towards the bed in the RV, dogging Noctis’s footsteps. He pulled his pocket knife free and flicked it open. Sliced a gash on the exterior of his arm, and caught Noctis by his wrist to press the bleeding wound to his mouth. “Drink.”

He didn’t need telling twice.

He had known, even before the battle against Titan had ended, that he would end up drained and needing blood, at the earliest convenience. He had expected to end the battle and be on their way, back in their own car and back to their supply at the Leville with Iris and Jared. It would have been a tense drive, but nothing compared to the ride they had been forced to take with Ardyn. Even on the airship, Noctis hadn’t been speaking, fielding Prompto’s questions with noncommental noise, and Ignis had figured it was because of the hunger, and because of the fangs. He hadn’t been wrong.

Now, Ignis found his arm being held too tightly, and felt himself being cornered back into the wall, and aforementioned teeth sinking into his wrist. He inhaled sharply; he hadn’t needed to do that. Bite. He’d already… but instincts. Ignis hoped it wouldn’t be deep enough for stitches, but at least it was his non-dominant hand. It would be easier to manage if it did… Noct was holding onto his hand and arm tight enough to make the feeling drain from his fingers. Really, thank the Gods it wasn’t his dominant hand, or he’d be rendered completely useless in days to come.

Losing himself in the swell of sensation that he furtively craved was both easier, and more difficult. He was floating, and then he was spinning, and then he was suddenly crashing to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. “Noct,” he tried to say.

The battle had taken more out of him than he had wanted to admit. Maybe he’d rest while Noctis finished feeding.

“Iggy. Hey!”

He had heard him, after all. Or perhaps he had just been concerned when he collapsed. Probably that. Ignis dragged his eyes open to frown, and choked on a gasp when pain exploded from the bite at his wrist. Noctis was a little frantically– but effectively– tying a strip of cloth around it tightly.

“Hey. Stay awake. I didn’t– I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking– I didn’t mean to take so much– I’m so _thirsty–_ ”

The bandage grew tighter, and Ignis cringed at the noise that came out of his own mouth.

“Sorry!”

Oh Gods, _focus_. He numbly reached out a hand, clumsily touching the prince’s arm. “Just underestimated my exhaustion, Noct… I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” There was blood on his face. His fangs were still partially out.

Ignis’s concern was muted. “Yes. Seems I was running on adrenaline.” He offered a tired smile, and was even more pleased when Noctis gave him one back.

He needed to get back to his feet, to see to Noct’s wounds and make sure he had enough blood for now. Then he needed to wash up, and check on the others, and perhaps afterwards he would be able to crawl into bed and sleep. It was hard to persuade himself to move when Noctis was still crouched in front of him, looking at him the way that he was. Soft, through the pink eyes and the fresh blood and the too sharp teeth. The kind of look that would have made Ignis’s heart melt. And then, quite suddenly to Ignis, who was still reeling from the feeding, Noctis was lurching forward and kissing him.

It happened so quickly that he mistook the intention; muted concern turned to a flicker of panic that had him jerking back, slamming back into the wall before Noctis’s mouth was actually on his and _oh Gods_ – was he dreaming? Had he truly passed out? This couldn’t be real. This was mirror image to a dream, except…

Noct’s fangs were pressing into his lip and his mouth was still hot and sticky from Ignis’s own _blood_ , and those were _not_ aspects of a dream Ignis would have. He couldn’t bring himself to be disturbed. Instead, he framed Noctis’s face with his hands and kissed him back.

It was like those fantasies, and unlike them too. Noctis’s mouth was warm and uncertain against his. His own blood tasted sharp against his lips. Noctis didn’t close his eyes. Neither did Ignis. He was gauging every reaction best he could in this state, hanging onto them in case he would never have them again. In case this was exhaustion talking, and acting, on both of their behalfs.

The prick of too sharp teeth into his lip made him wince again, and this time Noctis pulled back with a startled gasp. “Sorry.” He clapped a hand over his mouth. “Forgot.”

Ignis shook his head, pressing a finger to the small bead of blood blossoming from the accidental nip. And pretended heat didn’t rush through his body when Noctis’s eyes seemed to pinpoint the movement.

… Another time. He brushed the blood away and licked his lips. His mouth felt sticky. Tasting blood had always made him feel sick, but then, he wasn’t a vampire. He couldn’t appreciate it. He _could_ appreciate _how_ it had gotten smeared across his mouth in the first place, and feel a very faint sense of very odd excitement about it. Best not to think about it. They were both too _tired_ to make sense of anything.

“Noct…”

Noctis shook his head, rubbing at the blood on his mouth. “Get some sleep, Specs.”

Avoiding it. Please let that not have been a mistake. Please let that not have been fueled by sleep deprivation and blood drinking. Private fantasies could be hidden away, but this? Not at all. They would… talk about it in the morning, or whenever they happened to wake up. He’d make certain of it.

“You should as well,” he said, straightening. His entire body was aching. He wondered how much damage he had taken in the heat of battle. He seemed to have tuned it all out, right up until being on the ground. Not that they’d had any time to worry about injuries between Titan and Ardyn.

“Yeah, I’m gonna. ‘s daylight, after all.” He stood up with Ignis, eyes flicking to the wrist he’d bitten. “It should stop bleeding soon. I, ah, didn’t mean to bite you but I don’t think it’s too deep so…”

“It’s fine.”

“Dunno ‘bout that…”

“I like it.” He didn’t know why he said that. It was spur of the moment, and it slipped out before he could think twice.

“I, uh… can tell.” Noctis smiled, looking like _he_ had the reason to be embarrassed. “If I pay attention while I’m drinking. You… I can tell,” he repeated.

“Pheromones,” Ignis said faintly. Of course.

“Sorry.”

“What for?” He splashed water on his face, stooping over the small sink. He was about to rummage for a washcloth when Noct produced one for him. “Much obliged.”

“Yeah. But like… it’s kind of an invasion of your privacy, right? I don’t _like_ being able to know this stuff. Or hear stuff, or whatever.”

Ignis’s mind filtered back to the shower. There hadn’t been anything _to_ hear from him, had there? But… perhaps not think about that, either. It barely mattered, now. “It’s not as though you have a choice.” Soap and water left him feeling a little more refreshed. “With time, you can learn to block those things out, but it’s not as if it’s on purpose.” He tugged at the fabric on his wrist. “You’re fine.”

“You tell me that a lot.”

“When _will_ you listen?” he asked, passing him a joking glance.

Noctis huffed, crossing his arms. “Never, with that attitude.”

“Well.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s no hope left for you, I’m afraid– ngh.” Straightening up too quickly was a mistake. So long as he kept his mind off the pain and fatigue, he could keep pushing on. That was quickly becoming a useless pain management tactic.

“Go sit _down_ , Iggy, let me bandage that right.”

“I’ve got it.” He carefully patted his face and arm dry, and then squeezed past Noct hovering in the bathroom doorway. “Go wash your face.”

“Hey–” Noctis caught Ignis’s wrist, the one that wasn’t still lightly oozing blood, to stop him in the corridor. “I can…”

Ignis shifted his hand around to Noctis’s, taking ahold of it in another spur of the moment decision. And then raising it to press his lips to the lines crossing his palm. Noctis went quiet. Good to know he could have that kind of effect on him, too. “I can handle it. Thank you.” Another thing to not think about until morning. He let go of his hand and went to collect the bandages.

It was quick enough work. He pulled the sleeves of his sleep shirt down over the gauze once he had finished before going to check on the others. Then he followed both Noctis’s suggestion and his own, going to crawl into bed after swallowing a couple of pain pills. He felt when Noctis came to curl up against him this time, and managed to mumble a “goodnight” before falling back asleep.

He hoped, in the hazy moments before he fell asleep, that he would wake up with an arm around Noctis again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't even know how long I've been hyped to post this
> 
> isn't it great that it timed up so nicely with the dlc
> 
> I'm dying here ngl (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> forelsket
>
>> the euphoria of falling in love

There was no body, warm or otherwise, pressed up against his when he woke, but he was so comfortable he could barely mind. A well-worn bed in a camper had never seemed so luxurious. He knew that if he moved, the illusion would be shattered; there would be too many aches and pains from the fight, as well as whatever malaise had yet to kick in from Noctis’s bite. But the sheets were cool against his toes and fingers, and the pillow against his face. He could go back to sleep.

“… morning?” Noctis’s voice. It was quiet, barely above a whisper, but tentatively hopeful.

Ignis cracked his eyes open, and squinted into the nothingness. It was dark. But… there was Noctis, sitting on his side of the bed and watching him. If he could tell correctly. There was no light, and Ignis’s eyes hadn’t begun to hope to adjust.

“Evening, actually. Well, night, it’s past eleven.” That explained why he was whispering. The others were probably asleep in the other half of the camper.

“Eleven…?” Ignis rasped, and tried to clear his throat. Eleven at night?

“Welcome to my world.” Laughter in his voice.

Ignis tried to roll over, and stopped when the pain rushed in. It was followed by nausea, deep-seated in his stomach. Both things froze him in place, and he swallowed back a groan. The latter, at least, was considerably _less_ debilitating that he had expected. Each time Noctis fed, the more his body got used to the venom, it seemed. He might actually be able to fend off the gnawing sensation in his stomach this time, if he was lucky.

He forced himself over onto his side, and continued to force himself up on an elbow. “Everything okay?”

Noctis nodded, a quick jerk of his head. “Yeah. All good. You?”

He considered. “Well enough. A bit achy, but… it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You want more meds?”

“… please.” Noctis would get them even if he said he’d get them himself. He was already awake and sitting up, so he let him slide out of bed to go collect them.

“Are you gonna puke?”

He shook his head. “Tactful, Noct. No. Not right now, at least.”

“So it really does… stop making you so sick? After each feeding?”

“It would seem so.” He swallowed back the medication, drinking the rest of the water slowly. “That’s good news, at least.”

“You planning on letting me continue to drain you?”

Likely, he was joking, but the answer remained the same regardless. Ignis shrugged. “If you need it, I’m always here.”

From the look Noctis gave him, he had indeed been joking. Something a cross between an eyeroll and fond amusement, and then just… fondness.

Ignis tilted his head. “Noct?”

He shook his head.

“You’re okay?” He twisted around to put the empty glass on the table, but Noctis caught him halfway and took it from him. “Ah, thank–”

Noctis stooped to kiss him. _Again_. His hand slid hesitantly along the back of his neck, mouth soft against his lips. All uncertainty and careful movements, and gentle enough to knock the breath right from his lungs. Ignis straightened up, braced one hand against the mattress and kissed him back with as much gathered fervor as he dared.

It probably wasn’t much at all, tame compared to the thoughts he’d occasionally entertained, but it still felt incredibly bold with the prince of Lucis. With his very best friend, the one he had convinced himself he couldn’t _have_ these feelings for. He curled his hand into a fist on the sheets, and allowed himself to melt the tiniest bit into the kiss. There were still questions. They needed to talk about this. But– _Gods_ – this was magnificent.

For a moment, he could pretend that he wasn’t a hunter (a hunter who hadn’t gone hunting since this had begun, mind) and Noctis wasn’t a vampire who was destined to become king and purge the land of its darkness. They were just two people in love.

And yet oversimplifying things like that could have disastrous consequences. Ignis collected his thoughts, and turned his head away. “Noct…”

Noctis groaned, rocking back on the heels of his feet.

“It’s not a lecture,” Ignis said shortly. “I just… sit down.”

“‘Sit down’ is _never_ precursor to anything good.”

“Stay standing, then,” he replied. “Is this what you really want?” It was better to cut to the chase, to get to the center of the thing rather than dance around it. Especially when he could still feel Noctis’s lips on his.

“Is this… what?” Noct looked down at him, creases in his forehead. Ignis wanted to smooth them away. _“Us?”_

He made himself confirm with a nod.

 _“I_ kissed _you_ first, Specs, did you forget already?”

“After a blood-deprived feeding,” he countered. He was fighting offense with offense and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Asides from the fact that he had to made certain Noct hadn’t been… coerced into this, somehow. Up until this point, the prince had seemed to show no… _interest_ of that kind.

“Not just now!”

“But you know how I feel,” Ignis said painstakingly.

“That’s why I did it!” Noctis retorted. “Knowing that you… _feeling_ like you had the same feelings I did for you, I…” He turned away. Ignis couldn’t see his expression in the dark, anyway, but when he continued it sounded as though he was just as flustered as Ignis was. “Jeez, you don’t make this easy, do you?” he mumbled.

 _That_ produced a tiny smile. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you, Noct. That’s all.”

“If anybody’s taking advantage of anyone, it’s me to you, _I’m_ the one who keeps having to drink your blood.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me,” he said immediately.

“Shouldn’t _I_ be the one who’s upset about all this?” Noct returned, crossing his arms and sinking onto the edge of the bed again. “Like, what if you’re only doing this because the way the feedings make you feel? But I’m not worried about it, I know you, I know you wouldn’t let me run with this unless you felt that way too… I hope you wouldn’t,” he muttered, under his breath. “Not just to… please me or something…”

“I had feelings for you before you even turned.” Now it was his turn for his cheeks to heat up beneath their cover of darkness. He wondered if Noct could sense it, anyway. “I just… never understood the extent of them.”

“… Oh. Wait, _seriously??_ You could have told me all this time?”

 _Don’t pout, Noct._ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say them. From this distance, he could barely see the look on his face, and it was all too endearing.

Besides, Noctis  was speaking again. “I didn’t realize… not until the day with Cor.” He leaned back on his hands. “When he was teaching me about the atmokinesis?”

That day seemed like ages ago already, although he could still remember looking at Noct through the rain and hoping that he could take his pain away. Even if it had only been mentioning failed pastries made when he was ten. It seemed to have caused more of a reaction than he had anticipated, at the time. He hadn’t even noticed a change.

“Well,” Noct continued, “if I’m not taking advantage of you, you’re not taking advantage of me… maybe… we take advantage of each other?”

That… that was… Ignis’s lips twitched– no. No, don’t laugh. _Don’t–_ to his complete mortification, it came out as a snort instead. He hastily tried to cover it with a cough.

“Ignis!”

“Ah, apologies, Noct. It’s just…”

“Ugh! No! Don’t say it!” Trading embarrassment back and forth, it seemed. That was almost imminently hilarious in itself.

“That was _magnificent_.”

“Okay! Okay! It was dumb, it was _stupid_ , I don’t know why I said it. I get it.” Now he was definitely pouting. _“Jeez!_ See if I ever flirt with you again.”

“No, by all means,” Ignis said, “flirt away.”

“Not a chance!”

“Noct.”

“No!”

_“Highness.”_

“… What?” He huffed.

Again, Ignis had to swallow a laugh. “Come here.”

“No,” he mumbled.

“Very well.” Ignis’s body protested the movement, too aware of all of the aches and pains and bruises that were sure to have blossomed as he slept. And the fact that Noct had gotten his fangs into him last night was apparent, the nausea swelling with movement and a wave of vertigo nearly stalling him in his path. But it wasn’t unmanageable. He kept moving until he could press a hand into the mattress and lean forward enough to kiss Noctis. On his own volition, this time.

He wasn’t certain if he was a _good_ kisser– it was one thing he had little practice in– but he still heard Noctis’s breath catch in his throat and thought he must be good enough. He knew for a fact that Noctis had little to no experience in the department, either. He _thought_ , anyway. He knew there had been… experimentation on the prince’s behalf, before this journey had begun, but nothing serious, surely? How many people _had_ he kissed before him, though? What if the prince had given up his virginity and Ignis had never even _known_?

He curved a hand along the back of his head and urged him forward, trying to get his own knees beneath his body. When he could lift his hand from the bed, he brushed it along Noctis’s face, and let himself bury his fingers into his hair.

‘Little practice’ simply meant that he would have to study, and a hands-on approach seemed the best tactic.

Noctis hummed a note against his lips and pressed into the kiss as Ignis had hoped for. His hand landed on Ignis’s knee and stayed there. Good.

Why was he even thinking about it? Noctis’s virginity was none of his business. It was no one’s business except his own, and still… Ignis knew _most_ things about Noctis. He had learned them through the years. Surely he hadn’t missed something so _monumental_.

He swept his hand down to his shoulder, and then to settle about Noctis’s waist. He kept the other one in his hair, letting himself delight in the feeling of how soft each of the individual strands were, and letting his fingers drift through the downy ones at the nape of his neck. Touching him to take in sensation rather than for just… _purpose_. Running his fingers along his skin for want instead of need born of doing his job. He was delighted and… terrified in turns.

He was kissing the prince of Lucis, the man he had been in love with. The man who’d been turned into a vampire, who had been drinking his blood, who could _kill_ him in under a minute, whose lips were soft but insistent and growing moreso to match Ignis step for step, move for move. Never to be outdone.

Ignis’s lips tugged into a grin against Noctis’s mouth. He wasn’t one to be outdone himself either. He caught Noctis’s lip between both of his and swept his tongue along it; Noctis gasped, very quietly, and then took the initiative to urge him in to explore, hand fisting in the back of Ignis’s hair and gripping bruises into his knee.

When Ignis broke away for air, his chest was heaving. He was pleasantly surprised that Noct, too, even in his inhuman state, was a little winded. Or perhaps just flustered, cheeks flushed, breathing quickly. Ignis wished he had put his glasses on so he could see him better. As it were, he sucked in a lungful of air and smiled through the pain that was becoming steadily worse. He ought to lay down, but the very thought? Ludicrous. Not when he had this, not when Noctis was kissing carefully along his jaw, nervous excitement radiating from either of them, and especially not when Noctis’s lips crawled down to his neck.

The familiar flicker of fear, and apprehension, crashed into him. And then he tilted his head to the side to allow the prince full access to the skin at his throat.

“I’m not gonna… bite you or anything,” Noctis murmured. His voice was awkward, even through the kisses he was planting there. “I swear…”

He must have felt his pulse jump. “It’s fine,” Ignis breathed, and he pressed five points of touch and sensation into Noctis’s waist when he started to suck a bruise onto his neck instead.

He felt dizzy. Usually, it was him leading, giving the directions and the cues for them to follow. Always the one in control. Always the one with a plan. But he and Noct were both so woefully undereducated in these experiences, and the prince leaving hickeys along his skin continued to be a daydream he never thought possible.

As if Noct could sense his pain– maybe he could– the hand that was still locked around Ignis’s knee came up to press lightly at his chest, urging him back, and back, and _down_ , and Ignis swallowed when his head hit the pillow and Noctis was nosing along a collarbone.

Gooseflesh had risen on his skin. His heart was pounding. His head was pounding. His stomach was protesting at the continued movement when he knew he ought to be resting. He wasn’t certain which sensation was caused by which stressor. The injuries, the illness, or the arousal. He had to swallow again, and his voice still came out a rasp. “Noct…”

Noctis pulled away quickly, face looking suddenly, mildly stricken beneath the dark shock of hair. “I– I’m not… _propositioning_ you, I just– you’re hurt, so…”

He didn’t know if he ought to feel disappointed or relieved. His head was still swimming. “I know,” he interrupted, and reached up with both hands to pull Noctis’s mouth down to his for one last kiss.

 _Relieved_ , a wry voice in the back of his mind supplied. He was too nauseous, and too… unprepared, and Noct sounded too flustered at the mere thought of anything more. Even if Ignis _had_ missed a monumental moment– which he still doubted– it would still be Noctis’s first time with _him_.

He smiled, despite the tremor of something like nerves deep in his stomach, as he pulled away.

A hurdle to be crossed when they both arrived to it, assuming this wasn’t all, in fact, some kind of torturous dream.

When Ignis fell asleep this time, Noctis was folded into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis: this is euphoria this is bliss all the things I never knew I wanted and thought I couldn't have  
> also Ignis: I wonder if the prince has had anyone
> 
>    
> Ignis plz. remember this is a slow burn


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stormbringer.

Even Noctis couldn’t will away the Stormbringer’s weather, and all four of them were _drenched_ when they all but clamored into the cave they had found.

“ _Damn_ , Noct, you can’t even make it stop raining a _little_?”

“No.”

Ignis was already peeling his blazer off. “Out of your wet clothes, everyone.”

“W–What?” Prompto spluttered. “But we don’t have anything to change into!”

“Better cold and dry than cold and _wet_.”

“It’s not even _that_ cold. Just need to dry out.”

Gladiolus was already pulling his shirt over his head, and Ignis shivered in the draft it created. He had to clench his teeth so that they wouldn’t chatter, and take a steady breath to continue without stammering himself. “Indeed. The rain will have lowered our body temperatures. Luckily Wiz supplied us with a few spare blankets, and we should be able to build a fire.” A carefully placed Fira should give them warmth and a way to dry their clothes.

“S–So we _won’t_ freeze?”

“You might, if you don’t get out of those clothes.”

Prompto groaned, and Ignis caught the very end of a look that the blonde and Noctis shared before he could turn away to busy himself with his own clothing. If Gladio was the shameless one in their retinue, both Noctis and Prompto were the most unostentatious. He expected it would be the scars along Noctis’s back, and the stretch marks from Prompto’s weight loss. And he also expected that if anyone were to judge either of them for those things, both he and Gladio would be forced to take immediate action. But here, there was no one to see but them.

… easier said than done, ignoring the urge to be self-conscious. He dropped his gloves to the cave floor with a wet _splat_ and started to pluck at the buttons on his shirt.

“How much _further_ is it to Ramuh?” Prompto muttered, struggling with his vest.

“Not much.” Noctis arched his eyebrows. “Having a problem there?”

“It’s stuck in my hair! Get it ooooofffff!”

Noctis laughed, a bit of a shiver on the noise himself, as he reached over to help him.

Ignis folded his shirt next to his gloves and set about building the fire. He’d collected kindling along the way, when he’d found twigs and brush dry enough to. Small enough to fit in their bag, but sturdy enough to take a carefully placed flask of fire. He cracked the flask and it roared to life, washing warmth over them. All four of them collectively sighed.

It wasn’t the first time the four of them had been stripped down to their boxers, nor would it likely be the last, but it was the first time they ended up in such a dogpile for sleep. Prompto, halfway on Gladio’s chest and still pressed to Ignis’s back; one leg tangled with Ignis’s, Gladio’s arm around his waist, his nose pressed into Gladio’s neck with a sharp hiss and grumbled complaint. Ignis, between Prompto and Noct; warmth at his back and the unfamiliar sensation of bare skin against his bare leg, a slightly cooler warmth curled into his chest, _his_ arm around Noctis’s waist as was becoming typical of their sleeping arrangement.

Gladio was snoring first, and then Prompto, too. Ignis wasn’t certain he could sleep like this, and he had to tend the fire–

Noctis surprised him by slipping his arm around _his_ waist. “Get some sleep, Specs. I’ll watch the fire.”

“You’re certain?”

Noct’s hair tickled his chest. “Yeah. Not tired, anyway.”

Ignis, despite any false pretenses he might have tried to put up at any other moment, _was_. “Wake me if you need anything.”

“Got it.”

He could get _used_ to sleeping like this, though, he thought. Putting his inhibitions aside, it was warm, and comfortable, a little constricting given the presences of people on either side of him and the blanket weighing him down, but good after the hike through the rain for the two runestones. Very comfortable. Probably in large part thanks to Noctis’s steady breathing against his chest.

 

 

He awoke to muffled voices, whispers in the dark and on the edge of his consciousness.

“– stop _laughing_ , Noct–”

Something was shaking, ever so slightly, against his back.

“– just because _you_ don’t go to the bathroom unless you eat human food–”

“Uh, I generally do. He cooks, I’m _gonna_ eat.”

“This is _still_ so unfair, _you_ drink blood and _my_ bladder’s gonna burst…”

Noctis was laughing. “Just nudge him off.”

“I can’t.” Prompto. “It’s like moving a sleeping baby. Or a cat. If I wake him up, then I’m, I dunno, _cursed_ or something–”

Ignis sighed, properly awake. Prompto stopped talking, and Noctis stopped snickering behind his back. Ignis cracked his eyes open and instead of being curled into Noct as he’d anticipated, he was holding Prompto instead. He blinked, confused.

“… Heeeey Iggy~ I, uh, I appreciate the cuddling but… I have to go. Pee. Like, now. As in now.”

“… Oh. So sorry.”

He hadn’t slept so well in a long time, not without being dog-tired first. He untangled himself from Prompto, catching a vague glance of Gladio after the blonde had scrambled away. He’d rolled away from them, blanket pulled away, naked save for the boxers Ignis has insisted he keep on while stripping. Ignis sighed again, urged himself up to tug the blanket back over Gladio. A quick glance to the fire. Then he dropped back onto his back, stifling a yawn into his hand.

He could practically _hear_ Noctis grinning.

“Yes?” he asked, turning his head towards him.

He _was_ grinning. “Nothing.”

“You could have woken me up.”

“It was funnier to watch him squirm.”

Ignis rolled his eyes. “Most amusing, Noct.”

“Know what else’s amusing?”

“Daresay you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re a cuddler.” Noct propped his head up on his hand. “Aren’t you?”

“Evidently.” He yawned again. No light was coming in from the mouth of the cave. It must still be very early. He could still hear the rain, too.

“You don’t know?”

He ought to check the time. “I’ve never had opportunity to find out.”

“Oh. But, wait, you and I used to sleep together. When we were kids, you’d always have… you always held me, I think?”

He had started smiling even before Noctis had finished speaking. “Yes.” He could remember, remember the nights where his uncle would wake him up when the world was still dark, in summons to the prince’s room. When Noctis was awake and crying and the King was hovering over him like the worried parent he was. Those nights had reached a crescendo after the familiar attack, and the attack on Tenebrae, when only Ignis had been able to calm him down by gathering him into his arms and holding him until he fell asleep.

There had been nights that hadn’t worked, too, nights when Noctis had cried himself sick from the nightmares and Ignis had been left blinking back tears of his own behind his glasses. Those nights had been hell, all of them struggling to find footing in a household that had suddenly changed from events that no one should have had to witness. Ignis had hated feeling helpless, even back then.

“That _is_ different, though,” Ignis said quietly. “We were kids.”

Noctis shifted next to him. He might have sighed, but it was almost too quiet to discern. “Things were easier when we were kids.”

“In some aspects.”

“Only some?” He sounded dubious. “Sorry, let you go back to sleep. Still forgetting everyone else isn’t wide awake like me.”

 _Only some?_ Not really. Ignis rolled over, pressing a hand against the prince’s shoulder. “No need to worry. Prompto would have woken me. Eventually.”

Noct huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess. Seriously, though, it’s still early.”

“Mm.” Ignis’s hand on his shoulder turned to pushing at it, gently. “Turn over, Noct.”

“What?” Noctis flashed him a confused look, briefly, and then rolled over. “Why?”

“I think…” He slipped an arm around his waist, urging his back flush against his chest, and slipped his leg over Noctis’s, reminiscent of how Prompto had done earlier to him. It felt just as strange. It felt just as nice. “… we used to sleep somewhat like this.”

The responding noise was equal parts surprised and amused. “I was smaller.”

“I don’t know. Our height difference is probably about the same.” He could easily tuck Noctis’s head under his chin if he wanted. And he did.

His toes nudged at Ignis’s calf. “Probably not this, though.”

“Ah. Probably not.” But he had held him like this, when they were kids, slept like this even if they had never slept so _intimately_ close. Not stripped down to boxers and briefs, either. It was overwhelming, but still: not in a bad way. He was content, and tired, and happy.

He would blame all three of those things when he dropped his lips into Noctis’s hair, fully conscious of the fact this time. And he would blame all three of those things when Noctis took the hand draped over him and started to press kisses along his palm.

Idle. Absentminded. Gentle. No intention, just affection. This _had_ to be a dream.

He would blame being content and tired and happy, and Noctis’s lips and Noctis’s hair, on neither of them noticing Prompto’s return.

“O-M- _G_.”

Noctis flinched; Ignis pulled away on reflex. “Prompto–”

“Gladio totally wasn’t having me on! He said you two were sleeping together!”

“We are _not_ –”

“ _Hell_ no!”

They might as well have been, for the mortification that Ignis felt. Not shame, which might have surprised him before they had set off on this journey. Only embarrassment at having been caught.

“But you’re kissing and stuff so, like, you’re together. _Together_ _together_?”

“What are you, four??”

“Your face is red!”

“Shut up! It’s the fire!” Noctis threw his arms up over his face.

“I _knew_ it!”

“Prompto.” Ignis tried again.

“Ha! Oh, don’t worry, I won’t say anything about it until you guys wanna. Big guy already guessed, though.” Prompto stepped over them, squirming to get back under the blanket. “I knew there was something… you guys are so good together.”

Ignis licked his lips, eyes shifting to the blonde. “Is that what you meant when you said Noct and I were ‘something bigger’?” he asked, mind going back to the conversation that they had had at the Disc of Cauthess. He hadn’t been able to forget. _It just feels like you guys are bigger, somehow._

Noct propped himself up on an elbow again. “What’s that?”

“Uhhh, no, not really?” Prompto shrugged. “But it makes sense. I’m really happy for you two. I said you were so good to him, and good for him, and it’s, like, vice versa, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Noct interrupted, chin resting on Ignis’s shoulder.

Ignis glanced at him. “A conversation we had when trying to get to you at the Disc.”

“Wait, what? What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Prompto said quickly, and then he sighed, mockingly dreamy, if Ignis were to describe the tone. “I’m so happy for you. Young kids in love.”

“You’re younger than I am!” Noct retorted.

“By two months!”

“Whazzall the racket?” Gladio mumbled.

“Nothing!” Prompto jerked the blanket up to his chin.

Noctis flopped down just as quickly, and Ignis sighed. “Apologies, Gladio. Nothing of importance. We’re going back to sleep.”

Gladio grunted and said nothing else. Prompto snickered in the shadows cast by the fire, and Ignis blamed contentment and exhaustion and happiness for allowing himself to shove at the prince’s shoulder when Noctis grinned at him in the half light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but I have this mental image of Prom trying not to wake up Iggy and then Iggy just opens his eyes and it's just ✧_✧ and Prompto shrieks. boy howdy if I could art lmao
> 
>  
> 
> Merry Christmas, all, if that's your thing! This chapter wasn't so exciting for a Christmas update buuuut good old fashioned fluff and cuddling isn't so bad, I hope xD


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BUST A BASE— imean

Good news was met with more good news: Prompto spared no words about the state of their relationship– although he did spare a few unusually long, bright-eyed glances that they both studiously tried to ignore– Ramuh’s blessing was much easier in acquiring, and the Regalia was found at an imperial base nearby. Even better was the fact that it had stopped raining; they might have not gotten their car back yet, but they no longer were dripping wet and slipping on the undergrowth.

Infiltrating the base at night was the best course of action, tactically speaking, and it meant Noctis could join them without worrying about the sun. A few well-timed warp kills got them through easily enough. The real trouble didn’t start until after they had found the car, and then it was just another battle that they were flung into.

“Destroy the–” He dropped and rolled, and felt the air from the blade slice over his head. They were sorely overmatched; their training had been going well with how long they had been on their own, but imperial soldiers were a class of their own even without increased power.

“Working on it–” Noct hissed, and then was gone, warping to the surveillance tower to send the soldier firing there plummeting to his death.

“Ahhh! I can’t take–” Prompto scrambled up from the ground, staggering. “ –much more of this…!”

Gladio grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him upright. “Don’t even think about quitting on me now!” He pressed a curative into his hand, and Prompto muttered a hasty thanks.

Ignis flung a dagger into one trooper, and the second into another, and summoned both from the air to continue his assault.

“Ramuh!” Noctis, warping back into the fray with a flash of magic and determination on his face. “As your King, your _future_ King, I ask you to lend me your strength!”

They had watched him summon Titan before. It hadn’t been long since he had received the Archaean’s blessing, but with the power available and in a tough spot, Noctis had called upon him once. It was a sight to behold, even more than seeing the old god for the very first time.

Therefore, Ramuh’s entrance shouldn’t have shocked any of them. Ignis still found himself pausing, Prompto and Gladiolus at either of his sides, and tried not to let his mouth fall open.

“H–Holy _crap!_ ”

Perhaps it was because they had not seen the Fulgurian up close, as they had with Titan. The magnitude of his presence again made Ignis feel very small. Likely because, compared to Ramuh, they were _all_ very small.

The bearded god snatched Noctis right off the ground, and Ignis had only a moment longer to wonder if that was a positive reaction before his attention was diverted back to the fight. They had received the blessing; he wouldn’t hurt the prince now. Theoretically speaking.

He could feel the atmosphere changing, even asides from the presence looming behind him. There was electric in the air. It made his hair stand up on end, made his heart threat to burst out of his mouth as it washed over his skin in waves. The Stormbringer– the power of the Six–

“Incoming!” Gladio yelled, and Ignis cringed as lightning cracked down through the sky.

The area surrounding him went up in light, and smoke, and fire, and the smell of burning. The ground felt hot beneath Ignis’s feet, and the metal hot beneath his hand resting on the scaffolding. But it didn’t hurt. The signs of clear electrocution around him, but he was unscathed where he should have been injured. He had caught the effects of a stray spell gone wrong before, but in the thick of it, the Fulgurian had spared them all.

The soldiers were not so lucky.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Prompto was scrambling to his feet again from where he’d dove for cover, looked similarly panicked. “This is too much!”

Gladio: unfazed. “ _Hell_ yeah! So this is the power of the Six!”

Noctis warped back to the ground as the light began to recede, and Ramuh’s form began to fade away.

Ignis’s hands were shaking. He curled them into fists, and made to rejoin the others. But before he could, Noctis collapsed on the spot he had warped back in at. He dropped to his knees, and then both hands _and_ knees, head hanging low to the pavement.

“Hey!”

“Noct!”

“Highness!”

“I’m fine…” He vaguely waved them away as they converged, but leaned forward to brace his head on his arms. “I just… the gods take a lot out of me.” There was pain etched into what part of his face was visible. “Don’t think they like me, much…”

“Can you walk?” Gladio asked.

“Yeah…”

“You wanna take a break?” Prompto asked. “We hit ‘em hard, we could rest for awhile.”

“No, it’s fine…” He pushed himself back onto his knees, breathing out shakily. “We can take it easy on the way out now that we’ve got the car back.”

“If you can hold out until Lestallum, our blood supply should still be intact.” Ignis rest his hand on his back.

“Yeah.” The prince sighed, scrubbing his hands across his face. “‘s not exactly… hunger, I don’t know. I’m just…” He shook his head, like he was trying to dismiss whatever thoughts were in his head. “Tired, I guess. I dunno.” He dropped his arms back to his lap. “Let’s just go.”

The comment on hunger was somewhat alarming, Ignis thought, as he helped Noctis back to his feet. It was nearly sunrise, that much was true, but for Noctis to collapse from exhaustion was… unheard of. He understood he had the burden of the gods on his shoulders as well, but in that… he also understood very little of what Noct was going through. The bottom line was that the more taxing things got, the more blood Noctis would need to keep his strength up, and if he wasn’t hungry _now_ … why the response?

What were the gods _doing_ to him?

“You’re certain you’ll be fine?” he asked quietly. Their way back to the car had been cleared, but he was no longer feeling so jubilant. Triumphant, yes; jubilant, no.

“Yeah.” Given the positive response, Noct’s posture was too off. “I’m just… my head feels like it’s gonna explode,” he murmured, then a little louder “I’m just, yeah, tired, I guess. My body feels kinda… weighed down? Dunno.”

Ignis tried to think. “And you haven’t felt like this since becoming a vampire?”

He shook his head. “No, not… not this kind of… feeling.”

“And you’re certain that you don’t need a drink?”

Noctis flashed him a weary smile, a look that was equal parts amusement and _knowing_. (The latter a look Noctis had likely learned from Ignis himself; a look he would give the prince when trying to play sick to skip school or if he tried to talk his way out of vegetables.) “You gotta stop offering, Specs.”

“Offering what?” He kept his voice carefully innocent, and wondered if his eyes were gleaming with recognition of that look.

“What with that aphrodisiac effect, I might think you have ulterior motives.” Noct’s eyes were, at least, glittering with laughter even through the cloudiness in them.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” It was nice to joke around. Initially, after the turning, each joke had been made with an air of hesitance. Wariness. They hadn’t been able to get their footing around each other again after such a big change. And then even moreso, when Ignis had started to realize his feelings for what they were.

Now, they could joke like this and it felt _amazing_.

Or it would, if there wasn’t the looming fact Noctis was hurting in some way.

“I mean, you’re pretty much my familiar already.” And yet, Noct looked so _happy_. “Maybe you’re just waiting for the day where I make you my _full-blooded_ famil–”

“No.”

He hadn’t meant to interrupt, and he certainly hadn’t meant to sound so curt. Watching that happiness flicker and drain from Noctis’s face so quickly made him want to cringe. Stupid. Noctis had been joking, by all regards. But the very idea… Noctis blooding _him_ … memories punching him in the stomach, the taste of terror on his tongue.

“… Apologies,” he said softly, pushing his glasses up.

“Uhhh, guys…”

Poised to try and salvage whatever remained of the conversation, Ignis turned to follow Prompto’s gaze, and immediately tensed when he caught sight of their visitor. Even Noctis looked shocked to see–

– the former prince of Tenebrae.

“Long has it been, Noctis.”

“Ravus…”

“You receive the Storm’s blessing.” Quick as lightning, he raised his blade to Noctis’s throat, and the three of them stepped forward instinctively. It didn’t graze his skin, but, even more surprisingly, he still cringed. “And yet, you know nothing of the consequences.”

“Watch it,” Gladio intoned.

His blades were a twitch of the fingers away, and he expected to be needing to use them; he hadn’t been in Tenebrae during the attack, and he had never heard the truth behind the story, he was certain. But he had guessed the reason behind Lunafreya’s absence from Noctis’s side the past twelve years had been less out of want than it was out of imperial order, and Noctis had admitted that Regis hadn’t been able to save Sylva Nox Fleuret. There was plenty of blame to go around, although Ignis wasn’t certain it was as cut and dry as it sounded.

As it was now, he couldn’t trust Ravus, even if he was to become Noctis’s future brother-in-law. It sounded as if there was little love lost between them, anyhow.

“Awful high and mighty for an imperial rat, serving the enemy to hunt down Luna!”

Ignis noticed the change in Ravus’s face– barely there, barely noticeable– but _didn’t_ have time to react before the high commander had lunged forward to take their prince by the throat.

“I do not serve, I _command!”_

Ignis summoned his blades, stepping forward as Ravus shoved Noctis back; he didn’t take his eyes off Ravus to check on them until after Gladiolus had stepped forward, too. _Then_ he allowed himself a glance backwards: Prompto, hovering over a doubled-over Noctis, who had a hand at his temple and was taking too long to straighten up.

The god’s blessings…  these _consequences_ Ravus spoke of, were they… consequences that only the Oracle would face? Or more than that? What did Ravus know that they didn’t?

A question for another time.

Noct was back on his feet soon enough, summoning up the armiger even with that glazed look in his eyes. “Wanna go? Let’s do it.”

_“Noct.”_

Ravus looked back at him steadily. Almost curiously. For a long moment, saying nothing. Noctis didn’t back down, either, despite the state he was in clearly signifying he _could not_ win, as the ghosts of the royal arms spun around him in suspension, waiting for him to pluck them from the air and fight.

“Should the Chosen fall,” Ravus said slowly, brandishing his sword again, “that too is fate.”

Ignis stepped forward. He would acquiesce to Noctis’s wishes if he wanted a fair fight, but this was not one. He would _not_ let him fight alone, and a glance at the other two in the retainer showed their weapons drawn and ready to–

“ _I’d_ say that’s far enough,” a voice. One too familiar, now. Ardyn materialized out of a flash of light and nothing else. “A hand, Highness?”

“Not from you,” Noctis hissed, even as the swirl of Armiger flickered and died. It didn’t reappear, and Ignis moved in front of him. Gladio at the other side, Prompto right behind. Falling into position on instinct.

“Oh, but I’m here to help.”

“And how is that?” Ignis interrupted.

“By taking the army away.”

Ignis shared a glance with the other three. And very slowly let his daggers fall from his fingers and into the ether as Ardyn and the high commander strode away as quickly as they had come.

“You guys… know that guy?”

“Ravus Nox Fleuret–” Ignis started.

Noctis swayed slightly, and Ignis caught his hand when he reached out to steady himself. “Luna’s brother,” Noct mumbled. “Sorry, just…”

Ignis squeezed his fingers. “I know. Straight into the car, Noct. The sun will be up soon.”

“Got it…” Noctis said, and Ignis helped to lead him over to the Regalia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey look it's that asshole ~~no, kidding, you know I love him~~
> 
>  ~~~~Thanks for sticking around thus far! This has gotten so much more attention than I could have dreamed, and we all know the game's canon has barely begun. Hope you stick around! <3 See you guys on the other side in 2018!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got your back.

He followed him down to the overlook, a few evenings later. It was hot, and he was uncomfortable, and nothing was going to change either of those things.

“Something up, Specs?”

“No.” Ignis stepped up to the ledge, leaning forward to rest his elbows on it. Standing up straight seemed a task too herculean for now, and so he matched Noctis’s posture instead. “Not that I’m aware.”

“Huh.”

The warm air buffeted his hair. “Our preparations for travel are complete,” he added, looking off towards the remains of the meteor. “Iris asks if we can leave during the day.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Prompto’s offered to take the back so you won’t be squeezed in.”

Noctis nodded. “He mentioned.”

Lestallum felt wrong. It had felt wrong the moment they had come back, and it had continued to feel so as they prepared to leave, like oil sliding over his skin, coating his tongue, dragging him down. The sky seemed so dark. The stars were a million miles away again.

“… I’ve heard Talcott crying at night.”

Ignis looked at him.

“Don’t mean to, but he’s just down the hall and…” Noctis shook his head briefly. “He’s so strong. We let him down.”

“We did.” Ignis swallowed the lump in his throat. Oil and tar stuck to the roof of his mouth. “The empire will pay for what they’ve done.”

The first night back had been devoid of life. Gladio had gone to sit with Iris until she had fallen asleep, and never did come back before sunrise. Prompto’s gentle snoring had been silent that night, and Noctis had gone out onto the balcony and not returned by the time Ignis fell asleep. As for himself, he had stayed in bed and pressed his fingers over his eyes until he saw stars, and until the crease in his forehead and the wetness on his cheeks had receded enough for a moment’s rest.

“Jared deserved better. We should have given him better.”

“We should have.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Noctis continued. “I would never… I would _never_ ask someone to put their life on the line for me, I’d never ask anyone to _lay down their life_ for me–”

_We would do it willingly._

Ignis sighed slowly, not speaking the words. They wouldn’t be what Noct wanted to hear, now or ever. But it was the truth. They would all sacrifice themselves willingly for their future king, himself included. He had no _plans_ for it, but if the situation arose? He was ready. They all were.

“– and I can’t even say that I’d rather it was _me_ , because then it makes his service and sacrifice in vain, it makes the entire _city_ of Insomnia’s sacrifice worthless–!”

… except Noct, who hadn’t planned to be thrust into this quite so quickly. At home, he had been able to, at least, watch his father growing older. Weakened by the burden of the Ring, but at least _there_ to see, and for Noctis to plan. Recognizing over time his coming into power would have been better than having the responsibility forced upon him. Noctis might be their _future_ king, but he wasn’t ready _now_.

Ignis didn’t begrudge him that. He couldn’t. This was a lot for any person, nevermind one who had the fate of the world on his shoulders.

He tried not to think about that too deeply, though. He didn’t understand the nuances of the prophecy, and he expected Noctis didn’t either. They would find out when the time came, he supposed.

Until then… he touched gloved fingers to Noctis’s hand. As constant a source of comfort as he was able to provide.

Noctis’s breath came out in a rush, upset in capacities Ignis wouldn’t push him on. The prince’s shoulder slumped sideways into his and Ignis braved the chance that someone might be watching them to slip his arm around Noctis’s shoulders.

“Sorry… didn’t mean to unload on you.”

“By all means, unload away.”

“Like _you_ ever unload about anything.”

He tried not to tense– and in doing so completely defeated the purpose, but it was true. He _didn’t_ follow his own advice; he wasn’t good at being open, and he wasn’t good at being vulnerable. That meant placing his burdens onto someone else, and he certainly wouldn’t do that to the prince. “I’m… still processing.”

“Yeah right. You’ve always processed things fastest out of all of us, that’s why you’re the tactician.”

“Emotions are a slightly different beast.”

“True.” Noct sighed, leaning further into Ignis’s arms. Ignis accommodated by gesturing him back to the bench behind them. “I’m just… don’t _not_ tell me things. If you need to talk, or want to… okay?”

“Of course.”

“Ignis.”

“I– yes, Noct,” he said shortly, gathering him back against his side. “Thank you.”

“I dunno how to do this, uh, just… if we’re going to be…” Noct stopped, and there was a frown in his voice when he continued. “What _are_ we, anyway, Specs?”

A good question. Friends? Friends with… benefits, loathe as he was of the term, friends with benefits who kissed in lieu of sex? Partners? But they had been that for a very long time. These musings didn’t even begin to include the potential marriage still looming on the horizon for Noctis, something Ignis still could not begin to see a happy way around.

“… together,” he said softly, and held onto him a little tighter.

Noctis hummed a noise of acknowledgment, dropping his head onto Ignis’s shoulder. “Good enough for me.”

 

 

Setting out for Caem made for a tight squeeze, and even though he was shotgun, a tense Noctis when the weather forced the top on the car up. They had returned to Lestallum to learn of not only Jared’s death, but to find their blood supply ransacked, likely also due to the empire’s visit. It couldn’t have been traced back to them, and if the empire supposed that there was a vampire in town at all, _they_ surely wouldn’t mind. But it meant Noctis hadn’t fed in a few days, a few days that included a summoning of one of the Six. He didn’t need to feed every day any longer, but the small spaces still seemed to bother him.

“Hey, Noct?”

He twisted around in his seat to look at Iris, settled in between Gladiolus and Prompto in the back. “Yeah?”

“If you need a bite,” she said, extending her bare arm, “you can have my blood. I don’t mind.”

Ignis thought it wouldn’t have been an over exaggeration to say he very nearly drove the Regalia into a lamppost.

“ _Hell_ no!”

“I don’t think that’s wise–” he started, but Noctis cut him off.

“No, I– uh– no.” His hand, clutching the console between them, tightened around it. “That’s… generous–” he choked out.

“Now what the hell are you thinking?” Gladio demanded. “You can’t just offer yourself up to a vampire!”

“It’s _Noct_ , Gladdy, come on.”

“And he could drain you in sixty seconds!”

“He _wouldn’t_.”

“Are you _serious?_ ”

“It’s Noct!”

“And he can lose control of himself just like any other vamp!”

“Uh, if you’re gonna fight, could you wait ‘til I’m not squished in next to both of you…?”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“I’m just telling him how _unreasonable_ he’s being,” Iris said, matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that right, Noct?”

“I… uh… really wouldn’t take the chance,” Noctis said quietly. “It’s still… I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Iris.”

“I could handle it.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Gladio retorted. “Iggy, pull over the car. My sister’s lost her damn mind and we need to go back and find it.”

“I’m fine,” Noct said, raising his voice. “It’s fine. It’s just a few hours to Cape Caem, right? I can handle it for now. I’m fine. Really.”

“If you say so… don’t push yourself, okay?”

Amicitia argument effectively ended before it could properly begin; Noct turned around in his seat while Gladio continued to mutter in the back. Ignis flicked his gaze to Noctis for a moment, and pressed his hand over the one of the prince’s still clasped on the seat. The prince made a muffled noise and looked towards him, squeezing his fingers back.

Iris breathed in sharply from the back. “Oh.”

Noctis’s fingers seized around his for a second, and then Ignis had to pull away to adjust the steering wheel.

“‘Oh’ what?” Gladio grumbled.

“Oh, nothing, Gladdy,” Iris continued, and sounded a little… impish about it.

Ignis spared another short glance to Noctis, and he was looking back at him with the same vaguely amused side glance. Caught with their hands in the cookie jar, perhaps?

There was no reason not to tell Gladio, especially if he had already guessed about it as Prompto had said. He didn’t mind either of them knowing, and knowing Noct, he wouldn’t either, but he also didn’t feel the need to make an announcement about it. It was just… there.

In public, now that was a different story.

While he was certain Noctis _still_ would not care about his image, being seen in a romantic relationship with not only a person who was not his fianceé, but also a _man_ , also a member of the _Crownsguard_ … that could not happen. And Noct still did have that wedding planned. They had to be careful.

Also, despite that teasing from after the first bite, Ignis doubted very much Gladio would approve of vampire-human relationships. Actually, he had probably expressed his dislike about them before, but Ignis couldn’t quite remember.

In the meantime, something to deter further attention came in the form of another imperial base on the road. They secured accommodations and left Iris in Old Lestallum, agreeing they would get her justice for Jared as well. Then it was to work, a stake out, a strategy, and a plan set into action.

It, as many things, did not go exactly according to plan, but Ignis would have been content to call it victory– Prompto exclaiming about ‘Bust-a-Base complete!’– until Noctis suddenly called out a warning and summoned a lance in time to block an incoming attack from seemingly nowhere.

The fight that followed was short, and intense, and most of it spent warping, or whatever means of aerial acrobatics that the assassin kept herself aloft with. Ignis watched from the ground, pressing curatives to Noctis when he touched down for a landing, jumping in to haul Prompto back up to his feet– generally feeling useless until the woman came to fight with them, too.

‘Playing with them’, she called it. As if they were prey. Certainly the prince of Lucis was the target, and she likely a mercenary, but a _fast_ one at that. She couldn’t be–

“She’s human,” Noct said, vaulting past him. As if he was reading his mind again. “She can die–”

The next attack sent Noctis crashing into the ground again, and when the dust cleared, the woman was gone.

“Awww, is it that time already?”

Out of sight, but not gone. Ignis fell in next to Noctis, looking to him for direction. He would be able to pinpoint better, except his brow was furrowed, and he shook his head and mouthed _wait_ at him.

“What time?”

“Quittin’ time!”

A hiss of pain at his side; Ignis spun his attention back to Noctis in time to see him jerking a small, metallic dart from the side of neck. What– _where_ – “Get down!” he ordered, all but shoving him into cover.

“What is this?” Noctis yelled. “Hey!”

Ignis swiped the dart, squinting at it in the darkness.

“Enjoy that rushing through your veins! By the time we meet again, you might _just_ feel better! But hey, if you croak, my life’s easier! See ya later, pretty boy!”

“Hey!” Noctis hissed again, hand flying to his neck. “Oh f– that _burns_.”

Ignis grabbed his shoulder. “Let me see.” A small burn mark around the injection site, skin already red even in the faint light Ignis could see with. “Molten silver, if I’m not mistaken.” It was the only thing he could guess, given Noct was a vampire  _and_ he was reacting so quickly.

Noctis’s head jerked around to him.

Prompto dropped into a crouch next to them. “Molten silver?! Wait, that’s–”

“Poisonous.”

“But– but hang on! She said ‘by the time we meet again’! So he’s not gonna die??”

“I don’t think it’s meant to be lethal.” Ignis stood up, guiding Noctis back to his feet. “We need to go, now.”

“Ah–” Noctis smoothed a hand down from his neck, over his shoulder. _“Shit._ What the _hell?_ ”

“She’s playing with us,” Gladio said, looking off towards the scaffolding where the woman had first appeared. “Who the hell is she?”

“Gladio.” Now was not the time to find out; Ignis was already guiding Noct out of the base, mapping out the quickest route to their car in his head. They needed to get back to town, before the effects really kicked in. Provided it wasn’t a lethal dose– and Ignis really couldn’t entertain the alternative, right now– he would metabolize it fast, but he would also get _sick_ faster. This _‘test’_ was designed to hurt.

“Coming.”

“Keep an eye out.”

“Gotcha.”

“I’ll go pull the car up!”

“Be careful.”

“Back in a jiffy!”

“Ow, fuck,” Noctis muttered, scrubbing his hand down from the entry point to just below his shoulder. The pain must be spreading quickly. “Ignis…”

“I’ve got you,” he said automatically, hand sliding into the small of his back. “Can you walk to the car?”

“Yeah… for now? Ah–”

“Let me know if you feel anything else.”

He hadn’t studied in this sort of thing. The hunters of Insomnia never made it a point to torture the vampires that made it past the Wall. Ignis would have never made a point of it, anywhere; those souls had been human once. They deserved a quick and merciless death when the bloodlust overtook them. But _this_ … this kind of torture, specifically designed to bring the most amount of pain without that death… he would have called it inhumane, as if killing vampires couldn’t be called that in the first place.

Now was _not_ the time for a crisis of conscience. Hunting had taken a very far backseat to what his life had become now.

Right now, he could feel Noctis cringe beneath his hand, and he knew they had to get him out of here as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people on this third day of 2018! Here I am! Here you are! /throws confetti
> 
> Here's Iris and Aranea! The entrance of them, anyway. And now we veer back into vampire territory. Hold on tight it's gonna suck pun intended


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncertainties, or a premonition of the future

“Noct!”

“Gladio, take Iris to a room and keep her there.”

“What happened??”

“And leave you with him like this? Hell no. Prompto, get Iris out of here.”

“I want to help! What happened?”

“Gladio, please–”

“He’s too unpredictable like this. You don’t know how he’s going to react and you being alone with him–”

“He’s been feeding off of me for weeks,” Ignis said briskly, and slipped a hand under Noctis’s arm to urge him up.

Perhaps that made it sound worse than it was; it _had_ been weeks, weeks and _weeks_ since that first accidental bite, but it happened sparingly enough. Once in awhile, only when necessary. It had only been three times, hadn’t it? It was quicker to say ‘weeks,’ and ignore whatever look might have been on Gladiolus’s face.

“I can handle him,” he continued.

“So what can I do?” Prompto asked, face looming into view again. Then he answered his own question by ducking around Noct to support his other side.

“Help me get him into bed.”

“Right.”

Noctis raised his head, glassy-eyed and breathing hard. It had hit, hard, on the trip back to Old Lestallum. “I’m okay,” he moaned, and his head drooped a second later. “Really…”

“Uh, puking as soon as we stop the car _isn’t_ okay, buddy…”

“And neither is collapsing to hands and knees,” Ignis added. It was chastisement without real feeling. A poor attempt to break the tension. It didn’t help. “Just a little further, Noct.”

Words were lost to another half muffled moan, and he was going more limp by the second. Gladio, at least, seemed to have more luck in wrangling Iris away. Her intentions were good, but the less people in the room, the better.

“Iggy…” Noct moaned.

“Just a moment.”

“‘m gonna puke again.”

He finally got the key to turn and flung the door to their room open. “Just a moment,” he repeated, leaving him to Prompto as he hurried across the room.

“Uh, Ignis…”

He snatched the garbage bin from the floor and pushed it into Noctis’s arms just in time for him to be violently sick again. He kept a hand on the bin and one at Noctis’s shoulder; between him and Prompto, they barely managed to keep him on his feet long enough before he could all but collapse onto the mattress.

“You should go,” he said to Prompto, glancing back at the blonde. He crouched to start working on the buttons of Noctis’s jacket. “He’ll be okay.” He had to be.

Pale as a sheet and stubbornly _Prompto_ , he shook his head. “No, I’m okay. What can I do?”

 _I don’t know._ Ignis’s fingers stilled against the hem of the jacket, only for a moment. He really didn’t. Then he was drawing in a deep breath and continuing to undress him. “A bowl of cool water and a cloth. A glass of water for him to drink. Bandages, gauze. Our first aid kit.”

“What? Why? Is he hurt??”

“When he stops vomiting, I’m sure he’ll need blood.”

“… Oh. Got it! I’m on it!” Prompto’s footsteps running out of the room, and Ignis didn’t look back.

Noct blinked at him blearily. “No…”

“No what?” He discarded the jacket, and caught his shirt to pull it up and over his head gently.

The prince swallowed; Ignis’s hands stalled to reach for the garbage can instead, but Noctis shook his head. “The blood,” he mumbled. “Don’t need it.”

“Stop fussing, Noct. I can spare it if the need arises.” He gently nudged him down into the pillows. “Lay back, Highness.”

Noctis made a choked noise. It might have been a laugh. “Highness… don’t call me that much anymore… mm.”

There would be pain pills in the first aid kit. A curative would have no effect. “When the need arises,” he said again, and gave Noct a brief, terse smile.

“God this hurts.”

“I know.” He smoothed his hair from his forehead. “Hang in there, Noct.”

“Mhmm…”

“Okay!” Prompto came up behind him. “I’ve got cold water, drinking water, and this washcloth that was–”

Noctis jerked upright, a hand flying up to his mouth; Ignis fluidly deposited the bin into his arms again before twisting around to take the bowl of water from Prompto.

“Thank you. You should go,” he repeated, squeezing his shoulder. He’d gone white as milk, now. “We don’t need _everyone_ down for the count.”

“But…”

“And I really don’t know what else to do besides let it run its course,” he continued quietly, setting the water down. Noctis was still curled around the trashcan, head resting against the edge. “I’d liken it to a drug overdose in a human, but I don’t think there’s a quick fix.”

Prompto frowned, hands clenched at his sides. “Sweat it out, maybe?”

Ignis hummed. Something like that, maybe. It needed to get out of his system, and they couldn’t do anything to ease that process. Even if he did let Noctis feed now, he likely wouldn’t keep it down.

“… I’ll swap with Gladio,” Prompto muttered. “Just… text me, like, if something changes. Or you need anything. _Anything_.”

“Of course.” He swept Noctis’s hair out of his face again, stooping to look at him when the prince resurfaced from the vomiting bout. “Do you think you can drink some water?”

“Guess…”

He did drink some water, and slowly untangled his arms from around the trashcan, and even more slowly eased back into the pillows. There was pain etched across every feature, in every movement. He was breathing even harder than before.

“We’ll get you through this,” Ignis said, smoothing the wet cloth onto Noctis’s forehead. “Alright?”

Noctis mumbled an assent, and fell quiet.

 

 

“What do you think you’re doing, anyway, Iggy?”

Ignis raised his chin from where it had propped on his fist, staring into his coffee rather than looking at Gladio. He had figured this conversation was imminent. What better time than when Noct had finally fallen asleep? They had a moment.

“Letting him continually feed off you,” Gladio said. “He’s going to turn you, one of these days.”

Ignis shook his head. “No, he won’t.”

“Maybe not intentionally. But one day he’s gonna drink too much, you’re gonna end up on your ass and not getting back up, and he’ll turn you.”

“He knows I don’t want that.” It wasn’t actually a conversation they’d had, but one Noctis would have been able to glean from his reaction to the joke from before.

Gladio snorted a laugh. “Yeah, and he’s gonna let you die instead. He wouldn’t be able to do it any more than _you’d_ be able to let _him_ die.”

He probably had a point, although it wasn’t one Ignis was willing to think about– on either side of the scenario. “I can handle it,” he said quietly instead. He reached down for his coffee and swallowed a mouthful, trying not to think about it. Lack of deeper thought had served him well so far, here.

“Famous last words,” Gladio intoned, and Ignis’s responding laugh was little more than a huff. “Don’t let him use you, Iggy. Give him permission and he’ll abuse it. He won’t mean to, but his instincts will get the better of him. They always do.”

“You still expect him to slip up.”

Gladiolus sighed, shrugging. “I dunno. I hope not. He’s held that part of him back great since we started, it’s surprising. And good, don't get me wrong. But every vampire started out as a human once. And he’s got decades to forget that.”

“Fair enough,” he murmured. It was. Noctis had only been a vampire for months. What happened when months turned to years, when they were all dead and gone and the king of Lucis still reigned on the throne? “I don’t think he will, though,” he added. “He’s stronger than that.”

“Of course _you_ say that.” Gladio propped his feet up on the table. “ _You’re_ in love.”

So he _had_ known.

“I may indeed be slightly biased,” he said shortly, and swallowed another scalding mouthful of coffee.

“Just be careful, Iggy. I’d tell you not to let it come back around and bite you, but…”

He hid his smile into his coffee.

Noctis mumbled something from the bed, and although Ignis and Gladiolus were both instantly on their feet, he didn’t awaken any further.

“… You know what this means, though?” Gladio continued, after a long moment of them both simply watching the prince move about restlessly in his sleep.

Ignis dragged his gaze away, flexing his fingers in lieu of doing anything. “What’s that?”

“It means the empire knows.” Gladio sank back into the armchair, lost in dark thought. “She’s working for them, someone had to tell her to stick him with silver. There’s no other way she would have known.”

“… I know.” He followed suit, reaching for his coffee again. Something to fill the void.

He had been thinking about it, after they’d gotten Noctis back in the car and they were on the way back. Subconsciously he’d known since he’d gotten the whiff of vaguely sweet and metallic after taking the dart from the prince, but he hadn’t had time to focus on it. He still didn’t, really, and part of him didn’t want to think about it at all. He needed to, though.

“Caligo mentioned the Chancellor,” he continued. “He didn’t seem to be too pleased with him, but when his name is involved…”

“Can’t trust that guy at all.” Gladio huffed, glancing back at the prince. “Ardyn Izunia… don’t know what his deal is.”

Everything about him was suspicious at point. More than it had ever been; everything seemed to add up to… a larger scheme. Getting them to the Disc, forcing Ravus to step down, right down to the knowing look on the ship and the silver coin back in Galdin Quay so long ago. What kind of plan were they a part of? He refused to think Noctis had become a part of someone else’s scheme. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Gladio laughed, dry and dark and humorlessly. “Yeah. Is it ever, though?”

 

 

“Feeling any better, Noct?”

“No.”

Ignis sighed, idly rubbing at Noctis’s arm. “Forgive me, I don’t know what to do to help and online resources are sadly lacking.”

Noctis swallowed, and made a noise that might have been a weak laugh. “‘net doesn’t tell you what to do with your… poisoned vampire boyfriend…?”

“No, it’s more concerned with telling me _how_ to poison you.”

“Ahh.” He swallowed. “Of course. Kill the vampires…”

Ignis shook his head, pulling away to collect the wet washcloth. The silver not only had the _effect_ of burning, it actually _was_. Tiny little patches of burn marks turning red all over his torso, ones that Ignis kept patting down with cool water. “Still nauseous?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, wincing as the cold pressed against one of the burns.

“Apologies.”

“‘s fine…”

“You should take a cool bath when you feel up to it.”

“Mm.”

“For now, though, you should get some sleep while you’re not too afflicted–”

Or perhaps he spoke too soon; Noctis tensed up and made a grab for Ignis’s hand, sandwiching it between his and his chest and holding onto it hard enough to hurt. _“Astrals–”_

He hated watching him like this. All too similar to the turning, with just enough pain and additional vomiting. “Remember to breathe, Noct,” he murmured, dropping the cloth back into the bowl with his free hand. He could feel the lack of rise and fall beneath his and Noctis’s hands.

“Will you sleep with me,” Noct blurted, startling Ignis again. “I just mean– in bed, with me, I, ah, it’s just kind of– of stupid,” the latter came out a hiss of pain, “but I kind of just want to… be _near_ you, I didn’t mean, like, _actually_ sleep with me–”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Ignis interrupted, before the prince could continue to stumble over more of his words. “Of course,” he continued, squeezing Noctis’s hand and then pulling away to stand. “Are you sure it’s not going to be too painful with those burns?”

“No, I–” he broke off, swallowing.

“Need to stop overexerting yourself,” Ignis said, wringing the washcloth out to put on his neck again. “Give me a moment.” He had to take off his shoes, send a text asking Prompto and Gladio to take care not to wake Noctis on their way back into the room, and shed his jacket. Only then could he fold the blankets back and slide into bed next to Noctis. It felt more strange than he was used to, previously, curling into him with intention, but not at all bad. He suspected Noctis was right about him: he was a cuddler, and in getting used to letting himself do that was going to make him loathe to ever want to quit.

At least for now, it was permitted. He gently slipped an arm beneath Noctis’s shoulders and pulled him over, letting him settle down against him as he was comfortable. His whole body really was warmer than it ought to be. He said nothing. They were doing all they could.

The silence was encompassing and gentle, and it lasted so long that Ignis was surprised when Noctis actually spoke again. “… never crossed your mind, huh?”

“I– ah.” _I didn’t mean_ actually _sleep with me. The thought never crossed my mind._ That was a lie, and his cheeks felt warm. “It hadn’t crossed my mind since you’d taken ill.” The truth, then, without so many words.

Noctis was still, and then squirmed to bury his face in Ignis’s shoulder. “Oh.”

 _A good ‘oh’ or a bad one?_ he thought, and then decided to ask. “Is that pleasing… or upsetting?”

“Well, it isn’t _upsetting_ ,” Noct muttered, fingers splaying against Ignis’s chest. “Why would it be?”

“Just making sure.”

Noct hummed, and was quiet again.

In retrospect, Ignis should have expected the next question, no matter no how long it took for Noctis to ask it.

“So what kinds of things do you think about?”

Ignis exhaled slowly, turning his head to give side eyes to the prince. He wasn’t looking at him, anyway. “Noct,” he chided, “now’s not really the time.” And he really didn’t want to share his fantasies; he would much rather defer to what Noctis wanted… regardless of the scenarios in his head telling him otherwise. He would always defer to Noctis.

“I’m just _curious_ ,” Noctis grumbled, and at the very least sounded marginally embarrassed too.

“Don’t you think we’ve had enough excitement for one day?” He purposefully kept his voice monotone, and Noctis snorted and winced against his side. Ignis draped his arm carefully around his waist.

“Not the good kind…”

“Well, save it for another day.”

“Hold you to that, Specs.”

“Right.” He dropped a kiss into Noctis’s hair, this time while the prince was awake and fully aware. “Go to sleep, Noct.”

The noise Noctis made in return might have disgruntled, but he pressed closer into Ignis’s embrace, an arm over his chest and a leg over a leg, and disgruntled wasn’t a word that Ignis would use to describe it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it isn't UPSETTING Ignis _jeez_


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close enough to a fantasy.

“Noct?” He placed his hand on the doorknob and hesitated. The shower had been running for ages now, and Noct had barely been able to walk from the bed to the bathroom in the first place. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t linger longer than necessary.” Another pause. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Two days on and they were still in the same hotel room. He had been progressing… slowly. Finally up and out of bed long enough to take that cool bath for the burns, although he had opted for a shower instead. Iris had surprised them by meeting up with Dave, another lone confidant they had opted to share Noctis’s vampirism with. _He_ had surprised them with blood even before Noctis could stomach anything. He’d finally managed to keep it down this morning, and it seemed to have improved his state in leaps and bounds. Small leaps and bounds, mind, but it was progress.

Noctis was sitting on the floor of the shower, knees tucked up to his chest.

Ignis frowned. “Noct.”

He didn’t raise his head from his knees. “I couldn’t stand up so long.”

“You should have gone back to bed.”

“The water feels nice.” He arched his back a little, drawing Ignis’s eyes to the misshapen burns peppering his skin. “Although I’m a little dizzy.”

There was the line, drawn. “Back to bed,” he said, gathering the towel from the countertop. “You’re still recovering.”

“Neehhhh…”

Trying not to smile, he stepped forward to turn off the water. “Before you catch cold,” he said, and held the towel out as an invitation.

Noctis’s hair was plastered into his face, and he was _completely_ pouting as he looked up at him. “I can’t catch cold,” he retorted.

Smiling came naturally around him, though. _“Highness.”_ It always had.

“Fiiiiine.” He heaved the most put upon sigh and pushed himself up, staggering when he stepped out of the tub. Ignis moved forward to steady him, and wrap the towel around him. “I’m not a kid, Specs.”

“I know.” Gods, did he know. He could barely believe it himself, even looking at the prince standing right in front of him. Skin even cooler from the shower and bedraggled hair, pale and inhuman and _grown_. Sixteen years gone by so fast that Ignis could barely keep up. He’d grown into a fine young man. Even outside of his _feelings_ for the prince, Ignis could still admit that.

And if he _did_ take those feelings into consideration… he brushed the back of his fingers against Noctis’s jaw, and leaned in to kiss him.

Noctis made a noise beneath his lips, a hand pressing hesitantly along his ribs before settling on his chest, and he kissed him back like he had that night in bed after the Archaean.

Long had it been since they were children.

“Is _this_ what you think about?” Noctis asked, pressing against his chest. The towel was damp between them. Noctis’s hair was dripping wet. That wouldn’t do. “Catching me coming out of the shower…? Is that what you think about while _you’re_ in the shower…?”

Oh Gods. He groaned against his mouth. There was the irrefutable proof that the prince had heard him that one day, or perhaps, any other time he’d selfishly indulged. He ought to be more embarrassed than he was. “Not precisely.”

“Are you _ever_ going to tell me?” His hand wandered up Ignis’s shirt, cold fingers settling against his ribs.

Ignis breathed in slowly. “Yes.” He lingered with his hands on Noctis’s shoulders, and then slid them up to dislodge the water droplets from his hair.

“Mmkay.” Noctis’s mouth stilled, just for a moment, and his free hand scrambled to catch Ignis’s hip.

He pulled back. “Noct?”

“Just…”

“Dizzy,” Ignis supplied. The reality and reminder that Noctis had literally been _poisoned_ thrown back in his face. “Apologies, Noct–”

“No, don’t _stop!_ ” Noct interrupted, throwing his arms around his neck. His weight sent him staggering back against the cabinet. “Not _now_.”

“Noct–” Try as he may to be annoyed at the prince’s cavalier view of his own health, it was difficult to with Noctis taking his face in his hands and kissing him hard, the same way he did in those fantasies Noct was so intent on drawing out of him.

He had to relent. “Only for a moment,” he started, and promptly forgot when Noct bit his lip a moment later. A sharp inhale to match the pain– _too_ sharp, and Noctis pulled away slightly and gave him a somewhat abashed, _fanged_ smile.

“Sorry– happens, I, uh, guess when I get–”

Ignis touched at the speck of blood on his own lip, and again noticed Noctis’s eyes linger on the bit of red. But then Noct was kissing him again, tongue sweeping over the little nip on his mouth and chasing away the remains of blood. Ignis’s moment turned into two, and then three, pressing back into the kiss as Noctis’s tongue swept into his mouth.

“Ah–”

Ignis tangled his hands back in Noctis’s hair and tried not to pull and failed.

“I–Ignis–” His hands slid down Ignis's back, and his hips, and clasped at his ass.

Ignis trailed his lips away from the fangs, dropping open mouth kisses along his jaw. “Close enough to a fantasy,” he murmured, pressing a kiss beneath his ear.

“Yeah?”

“To one of them.”

“Just one…?”

Nosing along the shell of the prince’s ear drew a shiver. “Yes,” Ignis agreed. Instinct really could get you further; he had never kissed someone so fervently and exploratory as he was now. His mind was warring for him to both think and never to think again, just _feel_.

“T–Tell me your others…? One day?”

“Yes,” he agreed, again, and bit down on the lobe.

Noctis gasped out loud, jerking his head sideways to capture Ignis’s mouth in another bruising kiss.

One moment, two, three… Ignis was taking on more and more of Noctis’s weight as they stood there, a fact becoming quickly obvious when the prince’s groin ended pressed flush against his and Ignis had to swallow the moan that desperately wanted to escape. He was aching, and Noct was hard. And, save the towel draped haphazard around him, Noctis was very, incredibly, still naked.

Another line drawn. It was cold. His hair was wet. He was sick. Ignis made himself pull back. “Noct.”

Noctis made a garbled noise of disappointment… and acceptance, as he dropped his head onto Ignis’s shoulder. He was breathing hard, too. With a twinge of unease, Ignis wondered how much pain he was still in.

“You need to rest,” he said, as sternly as he could. “This is too much exertion.”

“I know,” Noct mumbled, and pulled back. “Sorry.”

“No, I should have insisted on bed rest.” He gently turned the prince to let him lean against the counter, and pulled the towel the rest of the way free to dry his hair.

“Glad you didn’t.” Noct peered at him from beneath the folds of the towel, and Ignis couldn’t help but smile. Again.

“… I’ll be more pleased when you don’t suffer for it,” he said gently.

He shrugged. “I don’t care. I can handle it.”

“ _That_ kind of attitude, Highness,” he said lightly, a bit teasingly. A bit seriously. “And there won’t be any more kisses for you at all.”

Noctis laughed so loud that it echoed in the small bathroom, and lips still tingling from the latest kiss, Ignis’s heart felt light. “You’re going to withhold affection from me?”

Handing the towel over, he replied, “perhaps”. And then went to gather Noctis’s clean clothes to set on the counter next to him. “Get dressed. Do you need help?”

“Thought you were withholding affection,” Noct retorted, swiping his underwear from the top of the pile.

“This is not affection,” Ignis said quickly. “This is… wellness.” He picked up a hand towel to start wiping down the shower, and to give the prince the privacy to dress as though he hadn’t just been pressed up naked against him. Some propriety was called for, surely?

“Wellness.” Noct snorted. “Yeah.”

“Truly.”

“Whatever you say, Specs.”

He might have taken relief in the fact that the prince must be feeling better if he was up to not only kissing but sassing him again as well. But then he heard him stagger into the cabinet and the muttered “ow” a minute later. Noct wasn’t prone to clumsiness anymore. Continued reminders; he needed to be back in bed.

“Wellness,” he repeated, taking ahold of his elbow to steady him as he stepped into his pajama pants. Noct just grinned, hangdog, up at him. He was leading him back into the bedroom when he continued. “Do you think that you’ll need to…” he trailed off, upon stepping into the room and being assailed with the full force of Gladiolus grinning over at them.

 _“There_ they are. Finally,” he said, and Ignis recognized the lewd look in his eyes anywhere.

Prompto was flopped across the bed, nose buried pointedly in his manga, and a blush high on his cheeks.

 _Spectacular,_ Ignis thought, fixing his glasses. Privacy really was a far-fetched concept within their group. “Where’s Iris?” he asked, instead of addressing the obvious, and pressed his hand a little more firmly at Noctis’s shoulder to urge him to bed.

“Oh, she’s talking to the tipster. Like she needs those ideas put in her head,” Gladio muttered. It was an efficient distraction, it seemed. “Iris, hunting…”

“Well, she was taught by the best.”

“Yeah, just basic self-defense.”

“Basic self-defense is better than nothing.” Ignis left Noctis to crawl into bed. “A moment, Noct.”

“Uh huh.”

“You feelin’ better?” Prompto asked.

“I dunno.”

“He’s talkin’, isn’t he?”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurting.”

Ignis stepped into the kitchen, pulling the fridge open.

“I’m still… still in pain. Better, but… yeah.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Wonder who she was…”

“Someone in the empire…”

“Trouble, no doubt,” Ignis said. He held the glass of blood out to Noctis. “But trouble that we’ll deal with when we get the chance.”

“Like Caligo.”

“And the Brigadier General.”

“Who?”

“Loqi.”

“Wait, that guy hellbent on Cor?”

“Yes, I’ve heard whispers that he’s not quite as dead as we thought.”

“ _Ugh_.” Noctis made a face into his cup. “You’re still making me drink it cold?”

“Your body has been burning, Noct,” Ignis said patiently. “Just for now.”

He groaned, but gulped back the few mouthfuls Ignis had poured anyway. “Thanks…” He dropped back onto the pillow and rolled over, kicking the blankets away. “Open both of those windows, will you?” He gestured towards the wall. “The breeze feels nice.”

It wasn’t that much cooler at night in Old Lestallum than it was in its newer namesake, but Ignis would humor him. The breeze wasn’t much cooler either. He was still overheated from their little tryst in the bathroom, and the air seemed to accomplish very little than to further exacerbate that warmth.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something like domesticity.

It took another three and a half days to to the seaside after Iris, tentatively, mentioned visiting Malmalam Thicket– and then promptly tried to take it back, which Noctis wouldn’t have. Royal arms, he said, and he’d spent _days_ in bed. He wanted to get out and do something. Iris didn’t believe him, and neither did Ignis, but there was no deterring him.

So, after two extra days resting in Old Lestallum, staying overnight in the Thicket, and Ignis quietly but sternly refusing a stop at Leirity Seaside– apologies, Iris, but you understand– they finally made it to Cape Caem.

… and were just as soon told that they would need to leave again, that Cid would need mythril for His Majesty’s ship.

“Noct.” He reached for his shoulder. “A word?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to rest. _You_ need to rest.”

He shrugged. “I know.”

“Oh.” That had been considerably less trouble than he expected. The latest royal arm… must have taken more out of Noct than he was letting on.

“Actually, about that,” Gladio said, “gonna have to ask you to handle this boat business without me.”

Ignis looked around.

“Got some business of my own to deal with.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes. Was there _actual_ business? He hadn’t discussed anything with him. Gladiolus was the strongest of their party, and if they were going to explore ruins in Niflheim territory…

“A solo mission?” he asked, tilting his head in question.

“Yeah.” Gladio shrugged.

“Sure,” Noctis said. “Do your thing. Not like we could stop you anyway.”

“You know me too well.” Gladio shoved his shoulder, grinning. “See ya ‘round. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah, right.” Noct shoved him back. “Like I _would_.”

“Watch your ass.” Gladio held up his fist. “Watch your fangs.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, bumping his fist against Gladio’s. “Yeah, yeah. You, too. Minus the fangs part.”

“Gotcha.”

“Prince Noctis!” Talcott came running over. “Come inside and see our house, Prince Noctis!”

“Sure.”

“Oooh, I’m sensing a soft bed tonight!” Prompto cheered. “Come on, let’s check it out! Be careful, big guy~”

“You go on ahead,” Ignis said. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

“‘kay!”

“Sure.”

“Gladio.” He already had a head start on him, but he paused when Ignis called out.

“Don’t worry, Iggy, I won’t be gone long. Probably.”

“Probably?” He had several questions, some more important than others, but Gladio seemed as likely to answer them as Noctis had been to eat his vegetables when he was human. The man wasn’t a chatterbox like Prompto was. Still, he had to try. “What’s this about?”

“It’s just… I have something to prove,” Gladio said shortly.

“To whom?”

“Myself?”

Ignis sighed.

“It’s just something I gotta do on my own, alright?” He grinned, like this was _humorous_. “I’m sure you can handle it as a party of three. No biggie, right? Keep the prince’s fangs out of your neck for a while and you’ll be good to go.” Like it was _hilarious_. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do– Oh wait, too late, _familiar_.”

Ignis ignored his laughter. It was done in good fun, but honestly. “I’m not his famil–”

“Oh yes you are.” Gladio started walking down the hill again. “You might not want blooded, but you sure as hell’ve been his familiar since the day he was turned. Keep him safe, Iggy.”

That was… unsatisfying, as far as gleaning information had gone. “Take care of yourself, Gladio.”

“Yep.”

He trudged back up the hill with a sense of frustration, both from Gladio’s sudden departure and that comment. Being called Noct’s familiar shouldn’t be a big deal, and it didn’t matter, anyway. A familiar was just a human– or started out human– that was there to help the vampire. In that regard, _all_ _three_ of them were familiars. But the thought that at least half of those familiars hoped to be turned one day as repayment…

Ignis didn’t do it for that. He most certainly did not do this to be blooded.

Noct had called him familiar, too, the day that Ignis had too harshly rebuked him for even considering he would want to be a full-blooded one. Did he truly believe he was his familiar, or had it just been a joke?

And statistics and implications aside, why did that bother him so much?

He sighed as he let himself into the house; some parts of his hunter-trained mind refused to let things go. He needed to work on that.

“Your friends have gone upstairs, Mister Scientia,” Dustin said, gesturing to the stairs farthest. “Let us know if we can assist in any way.”

He ducked his head by way of thanks and ascended the stairs. Well, something to work through another day.

Prompto and Talcott were chattering over the blonde’s camera; Noctis had already crawled beneath the blanket and was curled up in a bed. Iris was sitting on the one closest to him, leaning forward as she laughed at something being said.

If Gladiolus hadn’t left, this might have been the perfect picture.

Ignis smiled to himself and closed the door. Slipping his fingers under the lapel of his jacket, he was going to claim the bed next to Noct and closest to the window. Separate beds was a luxury they were rarely afforded. He… wasn’t sure if he liked the idea any longer. But they were twins, and squeezing more than one body into one would prove difficult. He wondered how strange it would feel to sleep without the press of someone within reaching distance.

“Iris, is someone in charge of the cooking?” he asked, laying his jacket down. They ought to have a proper meal; they’d been running low on ingredients and time, as of late. He was hoping to go down to the coast to look for shellfish at the very least, later…

“Oh, that’ll be Monica! She’s a great cook, too. You two would get along really well in the kitchen, I think.”

“Is that so?” He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, and glanced at Noctis when the prince looked up at him. “You think she’d allow me to assist?”

“Yeah, I’m sure she would. She’d probably like someone that knew how to cook helping, me and her get can by, but Dustin isn’t great. Oh, don’t tell him I said that.”

His lips twitched into a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Noctis yawned, wrapping his arms around his pillow. “Wake me for dinner.”

“Oh.” Iris leaned back, eyebrows drawn together. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep? You’ve been awake so much lately since you’ve had to bring me here…”

“I slept for five days,” he said, cracking open an eye. “I’m okay.”

“You did not _sleep_ for five days,” Ignis replied.

“I was in bed for five days,” Noct said under his breath, and then closed both eyes again. “If you _and_ Monica are cooking, I want to try it.”

“As you wish. Did you need–” Ignis paused, glancing over his shoulder at Talcott. So far as he knew, the boy didn’t know about Noctis, and didn’t need to. “– a drink?”

“Nah.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll help,” Iris said, standing. “And let Noct sleep for now.”

“Thanks, Iris.”

“Great. Let us see what we can cook up, shall we?”

He ought to have followed his own advice about resting, but the chance to have a proper kitchen at his disposal– and not just the ones provided in hotels, where he could turn around and slam his head into the cupboard door, which he’d done once before, _not_ his proudest moment– _and_ someone much better at cooking to take pointers from was too much of a draw. His personal repertoire of recipes had grown since they had left Lucis, but he could never stop learning.

Iris, Talcott, and Prompto had gone out to take photos, and Noctis had even trailed downstairs to watch Ignis and Monica work on dinner once they were into it. Everyone was both in a good mood _and_ flagging in energy by the time they sat down for dinner, and Ignis was content in the knowledge that all of them would sleep well tonight. In proper beds, even. He just hoped Gladio was okay, wherever he had gone. He was capable… but he couldn’t help but worry. Some things never changed, and all.

“Mmm, smells good!” Prompto announced as he came bounding into the house. There were smudges of dirt across his face. Ignis raised his eyebrows and said nothing, even when Talcott and Iris came back in unscathed. “Let’s eat~ Wait, what _is_ it?”

“Pan seared scallops with white wine and bacon cream sauce.” Ignis set a bowl down in front of Noctis.

“So fancy,” Noct said, and although he rolled his eyes, his voice was so full of fondness that Ignis found himself grinning before he could stop himself.

Rein it in, Ignis. He cleared his throat and turned to take a dish from Monica. “Yes, well, after a week of limited ingredients and Cup Noodles…” He sat down opposite him and folded his napkin in his lap. “Time for a change.”

Noctis just laughed, forking a scallop and popping it into his mouth.

Ignis was always watching, always waiting Noctis’s reactions to his food, always prepared for the worst since that very first disastrous time baking for him, and hoping for the best. He’d told him over the glow of the campfire, once, after gently coaxing Noct into helping to make dinner, that cooking was more about getting to please the people he was cooking for. That was true now more than ever.

Humming a little, Noct went back in for a second. “‘s good.”

The test was passed. Ignis huffed a very quiet laugh and picked up his own fork. Hearing Noctis say it was ‘good’ was like hearing Prompto say that it was–

“ _Good?_ This is amazing!”

They all laughed at that, and Ignis shared a glance with Monica. She nodded, and so did he, and he turned to tuck back into his dinner with any trepidation gone.

Conversation was light, and without any real topic. It was strange, really, to be a part of a table full of people again. It reminded him vaguely of meetings back in Insomnia, where he would sit and dutifully take notes for the prince to read later. Now, the conversation was much more enjoyable, and there was good food. But still, it served to make him wistful for a home that he didn’t have. That none of them had.

The glance towards the prince was reflexive, and it was only after a few seconds of watching him over his Ebony that he realized Noctis had stopped talking. And stopped eating, pushing the remaining scallops around in the bowl like he’d use to do with the vegetables Ignis had always tried to chide him into eating. Ignis lowered the can of coffee, about to speak, and Noctis put his fork down.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, and stood up quickly enough that it drew the attention of the table. He didn’t stop, leaving them looking after him and Ignis with his can still held aloft, concern rushing up to coat his tongue. Noctis vanished out the front door and it swung shut behind him.

“… What was that about?” Iris said quietly.

The sound of retching met them even through the walls, and answered the question for all of them. Ignis put his coffee down.

“I _knew_ he was pushing himself too hard,” Iris said, preparing to get to her feet. “I knew I shouldn’t have suggested checking out Malmalam Thicket…”

Ignis stopped her. “I’ve got him,” he said, standing. “Don’t interrupt your supper.”

“I think it’s already interrupted,” Prompto muttered, staring into his bowl. “Aww _man_. Why’d he have to pick now? I really liked this!”

He probably shouldn’t have been eating anything at all, Ignis thought. It was belated now, and utterly besides the point, but they should have kept him on blood and water for awhile longer. His mistake. He should have _insisted_ –

“What? Prince Noctis is sick?”

He closed the door on Talcott’s questions, and spotted Noct a few yards away, doubled over, with a shoulder braced against a tree there.

“Alright, Noct?”

Noctis made a noise, both of his hands braced on his knees. “Sorry… couldn’t keep it down…”

“Seems we should have kept you on blood for a while longer.” He rest his hand on his back, rubbing circles into his skin.

“Mm…” He straightened up slowly. “Guh. I hope that’s just remnants of the poison rather than not being able to eat _food_ anymore.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“I hope not… your food’s too good not to have.” He scrubbed his hand against the back of his mouth.

“That’s kind.” That compliment would never fail to hit home. It might be one of his most favorite things in the world to hear, right up there with Noct’s laughter and the way he said his name. “But you’ll have to thank Monica for most of tonight’s dinner.”

“Oh, Monica, shit.” He grimaced. “Eat half of her dinner and then puke, that _has_ to make her feel great…”

“She knew you were ill. I doubt she’ll take offense.” If she did, she would be kind enough as not to say, anyway.

Slumping back against the tree, Noct pressed a hand against his stomach. “Yeah, sure.”

“You need to rest, Noct.” He would put his foot down, if necessary, but the prince didn’t look in any position to be arguing anyway. “Before we have to go find this mythril.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, head dropping back against the trunk. “Just… trying to clear my head first. Maybe not puke all over the stairs on the way back in.”

“Right.” He swept Noctis’s hair out of his face. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Nah, it’s cool.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yeah. Go finish your dinner. _Someone_ should enjoy it.” Noct opened his eyes to smile tiredly at him. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

The fine balance between caring enough and caring too much. “Very well,” he said, reluctantly. Likely, he really did just need some air to clear the nausea, and some privacy just in case he couldn’t. Those five days confined to bed had to have been hell, although he had never said so explicitly. “We’re inside if you need us.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to Noctis’s forehead, and then just as reluctantly pulled away. But Noctis’s smile was warm, even if he didn’t move. He would come to him if he needed him; that much, he was certain of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen the idea of them all at that house just gives me so many damn feels. let them all feel like they have a family still & again. esp with what's coming imean-


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cape Caem's beauty pales in comparison.

Caem truly was a gorgeous place.

They had collectively decided to wait until the day after to leave for the Vesperpool, and so it had meant a day of downtime. He had gone to the shore earlier, Noctis and Prompto tagging along to pose for photos, and he was able to witness the sunset from right outside the house. That first day, he’d been wrapped up in dinner and then they had all been tired enough (sick, again, as far as Noctis went) to have fallen asleep early. Today was the day for appreciating, and Ignis found both the sunrise _and_ sunset rivalled each other, here, over the water.

It reminded him of how beautiful Altissia was in all of the photos he’d seen, and how very close they were to their first, initial goal. It would be good for Noctis to reconvene with Lady Lunafreya and try for the Hydraean’s blessing. More than that, it would be nice to take in the sights of the city.

“Lost in thought, Specs?”

He still hadn’t gotten over how startling it could be when Noctis appeared out of nowhere. The prince had the advantage, now, that if he ever wanted to sneak out somewhere, he would unequivocally succeed. “Noct. The sun’s still out.”

“For like another minute.” He shrugged. “I’m out of it, anyway.”

That was true, he supposed. He turned back to the last vestiges of the setting sun. “I was just thinking about Altissia,” he said, curling his fingers around the fence. “Many a sunrise and sunset over the water there.”

“Yeah. Those things are nice.” Noctis stretched, stifling a yawn. “Once in awhile, anyway.”

“Only once in awhile?” Ignis smiled, gauging the length of his shadow on the ground in comparison to the sun. Noct was inching ever closer out of the cover of trees; Ignis wouldn’t put it past him to risk burns as he had before. Reckless.

He didn’t, though. “Too _early_ ,” he whined, shielding his eyes as he looked towards the light in the sky.

“Which, dawn or dusk?”

“Both.”

Ignis chuckled, and the last remains of the sun finally slipped over the horizon. Noctis huffed and came to join him at the fence, promptly leaning precariously over it in attempts to look down into the crevice.

“Noct.”

“Ever thought about diving off the cliff into the water?”

 _“No,”_ Ignis said firmly, and gently but pointedly grabbed a handful of Noctis’s shirt to pull him back. “Not today.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Noctis gave him a devious grin, but looking at him… Ignis realized that the smile wasn’t quite touching his eyes. He looked almost… _weary_ beneath the mask he seemed to be wearing. Save vomiting after dinner, he hadn’t thought Noctis had gotten sick anymore.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah.” Noct leaned over, resting his head on Ignis’s shoulder. “Just had a weird dream, I guess. Came out to see you. Prompto’s already passed out on the couch.”

“Oh, he’ll be awake later tonight with you, then.”

“Yeah.”

“Some company might be nice.”

“Yeah.”

It got chilly at night, Ignis had realized, with the wind lashing at the hills and their temporary home. He’d left his jacket inside. Noct was only in his t-shirt, and Ignis had to remind himself he wouldn’t catch cold from it. Hard habits to break. “Are you prepared for Altissia?” he asked out loud, tilting his head to look at him.

This time, he could feel Noctis tense. “I guess so. Been awhile since I was turned, so… not like I really have a choice or anything, we _have_ to go.”

“You’ll be fine.” If he wasn’t… all three of them were there for a reason, as per the usual, and Ignis was– always– prepared to lend a vein if needed. “Are you excited to meet with Lady Lunafreya?” he continued hesitantly, trying to gauge Noctis’s reaction without outright staring. It was still something they hadn’t talked about, and something Ignis continued to feel guilty over.

“Yeah.” He sounded… neutral. Maybe even carefully so, or maybe Ignis was reading too much into it. “It’s been twelve years. Wanna make sure she’s okay, too.”

“Of course.”

Noctis straightened up, looking off towards the water again. He was thinking, loudly; Ignis knew there were words coming, and so he stayed silent. Noct would talk when he was ready.

He did, eventually. “Do you think the wedding’ll still go on?”

He should have expected that question. If not now, then eventually. There was no _real_ answer, though. The Niflheim empire and the king of Lucis had decided upon the marriage. A token of goodwill and a step in the right direction for the peace effort. The kingdoms were at war now more than ever, and King Regis was dead. The only one who could decide for sure if the wedding would go on was the _new_ king. So, Noctis himself.

That being said, the kingdom of Lucis would need an heir to step into his father’s footsteps, so many years down the road. A line, at least, to carry on, assuming Noct reigned for a long, _long_ time. While the marriage between Noctis and Lunafreya might not have been of their own choosing, they clearly cared for each other, and… the Oracle’s place was at Noctis’s side.

“I think,” Ignis said carefully, “it will have to continue to be postponed until this is all over. After that… I couldn’t say.”

“You _could_ say, you just don’t want to,” the prince retorted.

“Do _you_ want it to go on?” He hadn’t exactly meant to ask that, either, nor so boldly. Noctis was shifting restlessly at his side.

“… I dunno. I… want to see her, I want to make sure she’s okay, but I don’t…” He shrugged. “The wedding was something somebody else dreamed up, and I didn’t hate it. Now it just seems so… ugh, I don’t know.”

It sounded like he didn’t know what he wanted, either. Well, no. Ignis knew what _he_ wanted, but they were things he dare not ask for. Things that his and the prince’s… relationship– he felt confident enough calling it that now– could only interrupt. And he wouldn’t ask Noctis to choose between them, anyway. Lunafreya had been first, and they did love in each other in at least some regard. She could provide things he could not. It was a simple choice, all emotions taken away from the equation. Except he couldn’t really take those away. And he wouldn’t want to, either, but… needs must, perhaps?

“You have some time yet,” he said, instead, encouragingly, as if he had any leeway to encourage him.

“Don’t wanna deal with any of this,” Noctis muttered, and before he could press him on any of that, the prince had reached up to take his glasses from his face and press his mouth against his.

An efficient distraction. It always was. Ignis slipped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss. He didn’t want to deal with any of it, either. He would let today be their day off.

If Noctis’s mouth seemed a little desperate, Ignis didn’t mind. Just stepped in to match him move for move, to swallow his breath and press in to Noctis’s hands roving down to his hips. There wasn’t any real furiosity behind any of their movements, hands a little heavier, mouths a little hotter, but Ignis suddenly had the thought that they were getting _bloody_ good at this making out lark.

He laughed, and he thought he saw playful, coy, _happiness_ in Noctis’s face. It was hard to tell without the glasses, even this close, but he thought so. And then Noctis was squeezing his hips and Ignis was dragging a gasp out from between the prince’s lips as the chill washed back over them from the breeze, briefly replacing the warmth beneath his skin with cold.

They were outdoors. They were– not in public, but there were people. Another rush of heat completely obliterated the cold. Ignis cast a glance towards the windows of the seaside house; Prompto was asleep, Gladiolus was gone. Monica and Iris would have started dinner already, and Dustin and Talcott… would likely not venture around the back of the house, Ignis told himself. As it were, he still tugged Noctis a little further behind the rocks to block view from the house.

Noctis took them another step, and then pushed Ignis back against the stone. And _then_ pulled away, just a little, looking a little wary to Ignis’s eyes, as if… unsure. Ignis couldn’t find his vocabulary, just then, so merely reached over to slide his hand along the prince’s jaw, and leaned in to kiss him. Soft and slow. _You are fine. This is fine._

It was more than fine. Ignis still wasn’t quite sure what he had done to deserve this, but he wouldn’t take it for granted.

They would be more comfortable in bed, he realized, when Noct ended up pulling him down to sit on the ground. But he couldn’t be bothered, truly; Noctis’s hands had slipped up, cool, beneath his shirt, Ignis had swept a hand into the prince’s hair– so incredibly soft– and kept it there. Even as he was mouthing his way along Noct’s collarbone, he squirmed closer into him, effectively putting him flush to straddle Ignis’s lap. This time, he couldn’t bite back the moan. Very softly, and into Noctis’s mouth with a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks, but it was softened by the fact Noct reacted precisely the same way, and then ground his hips into Ignis’s a little to boot.

Ignis removed his hand from Noctis’s hair to grab his hips and pull him closer.

“Oh fuck,” Noct breathed.

“Not quite there yet.” It slipped out in the heat of the moment, in reveling the sensation of Noctis’s weight firmly against his front, and the tiny little fissions of electricity as the prince moved his hips _just_ so against his cock straining at the front of his trousers.

Noctis laughed out loud, bracing a hand against the stone behind Ignis. “Be _filthy_ more often.”

If only he knew. “Hard habits to break,” he said against his mouth.

“Break _me_ ,” Noctis fired back, and the fire erupted beneath Ignis’s skin.

“I’d like to,” he said, drunk on the power of the words and the heat of Noctis’s mouth against his. He might regret being so brash later, but that time was not now.

“A fantasy?” Noct was sounding winded, too. _Good._

Ignis dragged his lip between his teeth, and bit down. “So long as I can be the one to put you back together again.”

Noctis rolled his hips again. “You’re the only one who can.”

 _Good_ , Ignis’s mind repeated, and louder. (And beneath that aroused almost possessiveness that he ought not to feel, a baser, gentler kind of pleasure. Noctis trusted him. Noctis _only_ trusted him with this. Noctis _trusted_ him to be able to take him apart and put him back together. Ignis’s heart might have burst with pride and adoration if it wasn’t but for the desire taking up the allotted space of _what he was feeling_.)

“Alternately,” he continued, and pulled away to drop his head back against the boulder. “You do what you like,” he breathed, “and I follow.” He did that everyday, anyway. This was no different.

“You’re not picky, are you?”

‘Open to anything’ didn’t begin to cover it. Noctis’s weight was hot and heavy against his lap, each circle of his hips catching Ignis’s breath in his throat and against the prince’s mouth; he rocked his hips up into Noctis’s and smirked against his lips. “No.”

Noctis laughed, and crushed his lips against Ignis’s, and then pulled away enough to splay his hand on his chest and look at him. “Hey, d’you got any gil?”

 _What?_ He was nearly startled out of the moment, had it not been for the prince’s hands creeping up his shirt again. “What?” Eloquent.

Noct grinned. “To pay me for this lap dance I’m giving you.”

He almost choked on his laughter. Breathing, and the press of ten distinctive points of pressure against his ribcage, was distracting. “This isn’t precisely a lap dance, Noct.” Good enough, though.

“It _is_. Close enough! I _know_.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“How?”

Noctis smoothed the heels of his hands over either nipple. “Uh, I do watch porn.”

Ignis jerked. “No. The prince of Lucis. Pornography? I never would have– guessed.”

“Bullshit, you’ve walked in on me before.”

“A _joke_ , Noct.” Oh _Gods_. Truly, this might not be a _particular_ fantasy he’d had– this _grinding–_ but Noctis on top of him, having him at his mercy? Yes, Gods, a thousand times, yes. And the press of the prince’s weight into him, and the frequency and pressure was about to tip over from manageable to _intolerable_ – the next roll of his hips and Ignis’s breath came out a wheezing groan, and he let his head fall back against the stone behind him again.

“God, I love you like this.”

 _Only just like this?_ Ignis thought back, but Noctis continued speaking as his mouth trailed away from Ignis’s. He didn’t get the chance to say it.

“So good… _perfect_ like this…”

Three things happened simultaneously then: Noctis’s roaming fingers caught a nipple and _twisted_ , Noctis’s lips descended on his neck, and Ignis realized with a start that Noctis had said _I love you_.

His head was spinning. Pulse jumping beneath Noctis’s mouth. Dangerously close to the precipice, sensation and emotion rattling his body. It hadn’t been _I love you_ , so much as that. _I love you like this._ But it still had those three words, even if Noct didn’t mean them in their entirety– but _mustn’t_ he, lips still against the pulse in his throat?

His mind was effectively fried. Noctis’s breath was hot on his neck. All movement had ceased save the breeze still blowing across the cape. One beat, and two, and the rise and fall of his chest as he waited for _something_ –

“D’you want me to–” Noct started, uncertain, still mouthing against his pulse, and Ignis cut off him with a rasp.

“Yes,” he blurted. _“Please.”_

Noctis bit him, and Ignis buried his hands in his hair and pulled him in closer and let his head drop to the side for better access. His head was fit to burst, heart about to thud right out of his chest. He dropped his head back against the boulder again, imagining he could see stars when it hit too hard, choked on Noctis’s name and _gave in_.

Everything felt white hot, and fuzzy, and distant, immediately following, doubled up with the feeling Noct could give him from a feeding, and his head was still spinning. He couldn’t catch his breath. He must have bitten his tongue because he could taste blood. Noct had pulled back and was looking at him in… a way Ignis couldn’t decipher.

Astrals. Gladiolus had once said it wasn’t the same when you had someone else do it for you. Trust him to be right. And Noct hadn’t even _touched_ him, in that way.

“I think,” Noctis said shortly, taking Ignis’s face in his hands, “ _that_ was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

With a very soft huff, Ignis relinquished his hold on Noct’s hair. Smoothed a piece of it out of his face and pressed a hand to his cheek. “Thank you, but that’s very doubtful.”

“Seriously, Specs, be debauched more often.”

He laughed slightly. “You’re the only one who can make me be.” A slight play on Noctis’s words from moments before. But it was true. There was no going back now. No one would ever live up to his prince, and what Ignis felt for him. No one ever had a chance, really.

“Gotta do it more often, then.” Noctis smiled, and scrubbed the thin trickle of blood away from his mouth. Then he leaned in to kiss him, soft and slow like many times before now. Ignis thought he might have been trembling– they _both_ might have been– but, pulling him closer into his arms, said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> executive dysfunction is actually the worst but hopefully this chapter makes up for my sudden inconsistency in posting updates *jazzhands questioningly??*


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythril.

“At ease, men.”

Ignis had his arm up between the two of them, but Noctis was _growling_ beyond his right shoulder.

It wasn’t a noise Ignis would ever be used to, and not a noise Noct generally made. He thought he’d seen him fight as _vampire_ instead of _human_ once, maybe twice. The fight with the blooded familiar, and Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto had only been able to witness the part that had taken place on the ground.

And he had growled, instinctively, when he had had his first few feedings, under the sanctity of Ignis’s own roof. That had put the cold ball of ice into his stomach alone, but now standing between a rightfully angry Noctis and the woman who had poisoned him, he wasn’t sure which was stronger: uneasiness and fear, or indignation and protectiveness.

“When I said you might be better when I saw you again, I didn’t expect to see you _quite_ so soon,” Aranea said, looking around Ignis’s should at Noctis. “Good to see you didn’t die.”

Protectiveness won out. Ignis stepped over to block her view. In his head, he was sweeping over her, looking for weak points now that she was standing still, things they could use to their advantage if need be.

“Take it easy, it was just a job. No hard feelings.”

 _“No hard feelings?_ ” Noctis growled. He’d gone guttural, and not in a way that put good chills down his spine. “You _poisoned_ me!”

“That was the idea, kid.”

_“Why??”_

Aranea nodded towards the ruins. “You want in there, you’ll need to go now. That door will only stay open for a few hours. Big place. I’m here to make sure you don’t get lost.”

Noctis glowered for a moment longer, and then sucked in a hissing breath before brushing past Ignis. In the briefest moment of passing, Ignis saw Noctis’s tongue pressed flat against his fangs, before they retracted and Noct kept moving. “Let’s get this done.”

Ignis gestured Prompto ahead after the prince. He would fall in behind Aranea himself… a fact which seemed to thoroughly amuse her.

“I’m not going to poison him again,” she said, although she swept forward ahead of him. “I’m off duty.”

“Yes… the part that concerns me is when you’re back _on_ duty,” he said carefully.

“Well, I still wouldn’t _poison_ him again. You’ve got to have options, you know? I’m _kidding_ ,” she added, throwing an exasperated look over her shoulder. “You’ve got a stink eye so bad I can almost hear it. Cool it. The prince is safe. You have my word.”

How much could he trust the word of a woman who had tried to poison the prince of Lucis, he wondered. He did know a little about mercenary code, however, and honor–

“Wait!” Prompto exclaimed. “If we can only go in at night, can we only come out at night?! Are we on a time limit here?!”

“It only opens at night from the _outside_. We can get out anytime you like.”

“Oh… oh maaan, there’s so many _stairs!”_

Ignis kept an eye on Noctis, and a closer one on Aranea. She remained true to her word, however. No tricks. She’d even taken his hand and pulled him to his feet when he’d fallen, and single-handedly killed a reaper that had been near to slice into Noctis’s back. She’d given him a look, both times, and gone back expertly into battle.

He trusted her slightly more after those moments, he had to admit. He would still keep a watch on her actions, but she was free in her motives and divulging information about the empire. Ignis thought he would take the chance with his own questions.

“How did you learn of Noctis’s… circumstances?” he asked, falling into step with her after one battle. His clothes were singed from the fire Noctis had been using. Some things just did not want to die with physical attacks.

“You mean his freaky ass fangs and penchant for plasma?” She shrugged. “I was told.”

“By who?”

She shook her head. “Uh uh, pretty boy. Clients don’t get talked about.”

“Very well.” He pursed his lips. “Does all of Niflheim know?” That was likely a long shot as well, but Aranea was here and they had nowhere else to be.

“Don’t know. Word travels fast within the empire, but they also know how to keep stuff under lock and key if they want to.”

“… Do you know who turned him?” Another long shot. _Too_ long, he was sure. But it was the most important question he could ask. From the corner of his eye, he saw Noct raise his head slightly.

“No.”

He couldn’t help but smile wryly. Noctis’s head drooped those few centimetres as he turned back to exploring. He had figured. “You can’t tell me, or you won’t?”

“Can’t.” Aranea made a face, then shrugged. “Won’t. I don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell you anyway. He wants to know, he needs to figure it out himself. He’s the prince of Lucis; it wasn’t just a random attack and you know it.”

“I know. The list of suspects, however… does not grow shorter.”

“Put on your thinking cap.”

“Indeed.” Ignis had very little doubt that the attack had come from the empire, but within it? The possibilities were endless. His immediate guess would be the Chancellor, but the man seemed to be as human– if not dangerous– as the rest of them. Noct had never reacted, and he _reacted_ when there were vampires nearby.

One time, they’d caught wind of a clan nearby Alstor Slough. Close enough to track, which Gladiolus had wanted to and Ignis… had had no desire to hunt since leaving Insomnia. (How _could_ he?) They had never been close enough to see, but Noct had been on high alert, tense the whole time, eyes a permanent pink, hand clapped over his fangs. He had stayed one step too close to Ignis the whole time, and had only explained later, in a mumble, that he hadn’t been able to reign in the territorial rush he’d gotten, over all three of them.

Ignis hadn’t known whether to be amused or intrigued. In a way, they really were like Noctis’s own clan, weren’t they? Sans actually _being_ vampires… how was he supposed to feel about that?

(This had been before their battle with Titan, but after meeting with Cor. Looking back at it now, Ignis felt incredibly foolish.)

Noctis stopped, attention caught, and pressed a hand flat against the wall. Ignis stopped the rest of them with a raised hand and gave Noct a moment of quiet before asking. “What is it?”

“… dunno. Something big. I can feel it.”

“Oh! Great! _Juuuust_ what we need!”

Aranea seemed to stifle a laugh behind him. Ignis paid no mind. “Do you know where it’s at?”

“Further down… I think. It’s moving, but not… changing location, much, as far as I can tell? Whatever it is, though, it’s big, that’s for sure.”

“Looks like we’re in for a fight, boys.”

No more than had she said that, there was the telltale hiss of displaced air and the rush of adrenaline in his veins as a few enemies appeared from the shadows on the floor.

“Ah! Why’d you have to go and say something like that?!”

“Wow. Good timing.” Aranea prepared her lance. “Not the fight I was looking for, but one I’ll take.”

“Look alive, everyone!”

There really were a lot of enemies in these ruins that refused to go down without the aid of magic, and catching the effects of that magic… was _awful_. Understandable, given the heat and flow of battle combined with their given space, but he could still feel the electricity crawling through his bones as he slumped back against a column to steady himself.

 _“Sorry,”_ Noctis gasped, coming up next to him. “I’m so sorry, here.” He vanished his weapon and drew up a potion instead, cracking it open to hand to him.

It really hadn’t been necessary, he thought. “I’m _fine_. Wide awake now, even.” Still, he took a drink, and couldn’t withhold a sigh as the effect washed through his body. That was good.

“Yeah, right. It hurts like hell.”

Noct proceeded to reach up and brush some of the soot from his face, and Ignis nearly leaned into the touch before he remembered Aranea was there. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at her, but he had no doubt she was watching. “Noct…” The prince met his gaze and only then Ignis flicked his eyes over Noctis’s shoulder, towards their additional party member from the empire.

“Ah– sorry, I just… cleaning up my mess.” He dropped his hand. His face was pink. “We should keep going if you’re fine.” Brusquely, and turning away, he headed for the stairs without looking back.

Ignis sighed. If only Aranea weren’t there… sharing their relationship with the empire wasn’t wise, despite what Aranea said about potentially breaking with them. Better safe than sorry. The empire already had enough leverage.

They walked for awhile in mostly silence. Prompto’s claustrophobic, nervous rambling provided some distraction between battles. If Ignis tried, he thought he could make out the noise of whatever creature Noct had heard, in the depths below. They would find out when they got there.

“So how long have you been bedding the prince?”

He really did choke this time, barely stopping himself from doubling over as he tried to get his breath back. (He should have seen it coming. He _should_ have. She had been suspiciously quiet, and he was beginning to suspect she was much like Gladio– and wouldn’t let an embarrassing opportunity fly by.) “No, we’re not–” He fixed his glasses. “I’m not–”

He knew Noctis could hear every word they were saying, but the prince’s attention was fixed very pointedly ahead. Oh _Gods_ , _why_ this–

“Huh?” She frowned. “Why not?”

Because he and Noct hadn’t discussed it, he didn’t know if Noct even _wanted_ it, because there were proper ways to go about such things and because he was a _coward_ –

“It’s…”

“You _want_ to.”

Very briefly, he allowed himself to put his face in his hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his arms back to his sides. “I want what he wants,” he said, because it was the most truthful explanation he wanted to give.

“But if you want him, and _he_ wants _you_ , then why haven’t you two had it of–”

“Oooh, this is just waiting for some big bad to swoop in and kill us,” Prompto said from ahead. “Juuuuust great.”

“Guaranteed that’ll be where our mythril is,” Aranea said. As if she had forgotten the conversation she had been having– she hadn’t, going by the sly look Ignis received as she marched by. “Come on, boys. We all don’t have time to pussyfoot around the obvious.”

Right. Ignis sighed in exasperation and summoned his weapons. When he fell into line next to Noctis, the prince was beet red, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my heart for Aranea, though, really!!!
> 
> in which she gives voice to what everyone reading this is probably thinking: _just FUCK ALREADY_  
>  ( ﾟ ᗜ ﾟ)-ƪȝ
> 
>  
> 
> a quick note that I'm going to be changing my pseud to match up with changes made on tumblr a few months ago (i'm so slow lmao) so that when you see **_ivelostmyspectacles_** that is still me~


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last hurrah.

A quick detour to Lestallum aside– and the surprise return of their Shield found there– they were finally ready for their trip to Altissia. As soon as they were ready to depart– on Noct’s word– the ship was ready. Ignis was thrilled and nervous in turns. On one hand, it was _Altissia_. As well as the sights, all of the foreign food he could find only there. Perhaps, he might finally be able to perfect those pastries for Noct, once and for all. On the other, Lunafreya and Leviathan awaited their arrival. Choices to be made.

“Where is everyone…?” Noct yawned, hand ruffling his hair as he staggered down the stairs. Just past sundown. Right on schedule.

Ignis smiled in greeting, looking up from the cookbook he was poring over. “They’ve gone to the souvenir emporium.”

“Everyone…?”

“Monica offered to drive Talcott there, and Prompto talked Gladio into going. Something about… potato chips, I believe? I’m not certain.” Dustin and Iris were still in Lestallum, likely to arrive tomorrow.

“Oh.” He meandered into the kitchen. “You didn’t want to go?” he asked, after yawning into his arm.

“I’m ruminating over dinner,” he said, gesturing to the book. “One last hurrah before Accordo?”

“Right…” He yawned again, slumping forward with elbows on the counter. His pajamas were nearly draping right off his shoulder.

Ignis sighed. It was far too fond. Nonetheless, he was compelled forward to fix Noctis’s shirt, slipping two fingers beneath the collar to pull it back up.

“Mm.” Noct stretched slightly, leaning back slightly into Ignis’s presence. “Sleepy…”

“A long day, yesterday.” He slipped his arm around him.

“Yeah. Good to have Gladio back, though.”

“Indeed.”

Noctis slumped back the rest of the way into Ignis’s chest, body lax and still sleep warm. Ignis resisted the urge to press his face into Noctis’s hair, but only for a moment. They had the house to themselves. There was no reason not to. Noctis hummed, leaning his head in. “Thought you were cooking dinner.”

“Not just yet.” It was nice, to just _be_ and hold him like this. Like things were calm and they were two normal people. Still a dangerous way of thinking, but these moments were far too precious now to care. “They won’t be back for a couple of hours. I should put it in the oven in a half hour or so, though.”

“Gotcha…” He yawned again, and Ignis chuckled into his hair. “Hey, Specs?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…” He hesitated. There was tension in his shoulders, and Ignis stopped nosing absentmindedly at his hair. “What Aranea said… you… you want that kinda stuff, right?”

So it had been on his mind as well. He had been too tired last night to properly dream, which was just as well. He had still woken up feeling flush in the middle of the night, alone in bed and Noct absent from the room. Damn that Aranea. “What _I_ said,” he said, “was that I want what you want.”

“I heard what you told her.”

“Did you think I was lying?”

“I… didn’t know how much was true.”

“As much as you want to be.”

“See, that’s not an answer.” He twisted around in Ignis’s arms, looking at him. “Don’t tell me to do what I want, I want _you_ to be selfish. I mean, this… getting you unraveled is…” he trailed off, staring at him long enough to make Ignis’s ears burn. Then Noctis shook his head and blew out a breath. “… great, but I dunno what to do here, this stuff’s all new to me, I’ve never thought about it with anyone before but I– with you, I– oh _God_ , this is the worst negotiation for sex _ever!”_ he complained, and grabbed ahold of Ignis’s shoulders to kiss him.

It was dizzying, listen to Noct talk about such things and then to have him kiss him with such… enthusiasm. Things he had never dreamed about. Much. But he refused to rush into this. He refused to let Noct rush into this too fast– even as Ignis’s hand slipped from bracing against the counter and it put him that much closer to his vampire prince, even as said vampire prince kissed him back into a corner, the one patch of wall between the cupboard and the refrigerator, and started to pluck at the buttons of his shirt.

He let him unbutton, and untuck, and push his shirt open and slide his hands across his bare chest before he could find his breath to stop him. “Noct.”

“Yeah?”

He forced himself to pull back, to look him in the eyes. “Don’t rush it.”

“I’m ready,” he retorted. The fact that he sounded more petulant than self-certain was not reassuring.

 _“I’m_ not,” Ignis said, and it was a _lie_ , it was _such_ a lie. Before Noct’s gaze could grow any more horrified, he tightened his hold on his hips and pulled him closer. “I _am_ ,” he amended quickly, “but not tonight. We are… unprepared.” Unlike Gladio or Prompto, he hadn’t packed anything for sexual… _conquests_. “Mentally and technically.” By the look dawning on Noctis’s face, he hadn’t, either.

“Ohhh, right… shit, I don’t have lube.”

“Indeed. Nor do I.”

Noctis’s hands were still feather light against Ignis’s chest. “Umm… other stuff’s still on the table, right?”

He shivered as the prince started to trace patterns on his skin. “I’d say so, yes.”

“God,” Noctis grinned, “getting you hot and bothered is _literally_ the best thing, I can’t believe I never did it earlier.” Ignis raised an eyebrow, and Noctis waved the expression away. “You know it’s true. So, uh, did you want to switch it up or…?” He lightly scratched a nail over one of his nipples, watching his reaction carefully. “That last time, here, I said ‘break me’ and you– mm, there it is again.” He grinned. “Hot and bothered.”

Ignis groaned very softly, ducking his head to kiss him again. Hungry. On the hunt. He wondered if Noct felt like this when he was drinking blood. It really was all connected. Even if he didn’t flush red at the reminder, Noct would still be able to _tell_ what he really enjoyed in theory.

Noct saying ‘break me’ in that tone of voice from last time, though… only if he got to put him back together, as he’d said before, but still the _idea_ all the same…

“You just want to put me in my place.” Noctis was grinning. “Am I really so bad?”

“No.”

A muffled laugh. “You just want to make the prince kneel.”

Oh Gods.

Noct forcefully pulled back, looking at him. Curious. “You _do,_ don’t you?” Before Ignis could protest– or apologize– the prince shrugged. “Okay, I’ll bite. Not literally.” He removed his hands from Ignis’s torso, and, again, before Ignis could say a single word, folded down to bended knee in front of him.

The implication of the position was very clear, especially with the way Noctis’s eyes dropped from Ignis’s face to level with his groin. And yet more than that… beneath the rush of power and potential promise, Ignis’s heart felt fit to burst looking down at him then. The Chosen King. Kneeling before him when he ought to never kneel before anyone. Ignis tried to swallow. His mouth was dry.

Noctis’s hands settled heavy over his hips. They lingered, and then he slid down to both knees and moved his hands to the button of his trousers.

Ignis caught his fingers, enclosing them in his hand. He could tell him that he didn’t have to, but Noct already knew that. He was about to ask if he was _sure_ when the prince took his hand and pressed his lips against Ignis’s knuckles, and then very determinedly moved it out of the way.

The house was _cold_ when you had your trousers and pants shoved down to your ankles. It was quiet save the hum of the refrigerator and his own heartbeat in his ears. Then Noct leaned in to press a kiss to his thigh and mumble words against his skin. “Don’t know if I’m any good at sucking cock, Specs.”

He barely swallowed the laugh– or whatever noise it might have come out as. “You could not _possibly_ disappoint me,” he said instead.

“That’s encouraging,” Noctis muttered, and hesitantly pressed a kiss against the tip of his cock.

He clapped a hand against his mouth and then reminded himself that he didn’t _have_ to be quiet; there was no one here but Noctis, who probably wanted the encouragement. It gave him leave to thread both of his hands into Noctis’s silky hair instead, and he focused on the feel of that, and looking down at the prince, and trying not to let his legs fail on him now.

Noctis hummed in reply, lips still on him; the feeling sent vibrations directly up Ignis’s spine and he didn’t try to bite back the moan this time. That _was_ taken as encouragement because Noct swept his tongue very lightly along the shaft, and then moved to mouth at the head of his cock.

He probably had more experience in this than Ignis did, insofar as, mentioned before, he’d seen porn. So had Ignis, but less times than he could count on one hand. It was _boring_. It felt fake. He had never been interested in _fucking_ – nor had he ever had time to imagine _making love_ with anyone– and the videos had never cut it for him. Erotic literature was a better stimulant. His imagination was a _much_ better stimulant.

Maybe Noct had watched how to suck someone off. Maybe Noct had watched someone of his stature sucking off someone of _Ignis’s_ stature. Likely not but the _mental picture–_

“Bloody hell.”

Noctis laughed, fingers tightening slightly around his cock as he took him further into his mouth.

He didn’t know what his prince was thinking. In that moment, he wasn’t certain he could care. He braced his shoulders back against the wall and struggled to keep his head from following suit. He wanted to _watch_ , take in everything happening. Noctis on his knees, Ignis’s cock carefully between his lips, the faintly amused and concentrated face he’d adopted. The things dreams were made of.

Noctis took him in further, hollowed his cheeks, eyebrows furrowed in determination, and _sucked_.

Ignis choked on a gasp and redoubled his grip in his hair and pulled him closer. “Noct…”

Noct made a garbled noise around his cock. Ignis jerked forward; Noctis went reeling back, coming off of him with an obscenely wet noise to splutter and cough. His lips were pink. His eyes were watering, saliva on his chin.

 _Gods,_ he was beautiful.

“Sorry,” he started, but Noctis slammed a hand against his bare hip and took ahold of his cock again to resume his efforts. _Nothing_ if not determined, his prince.

Noctis’s hand stroked down the length of his cock that _wasn’t_ in his mouth, and his tongue swirled around the tip again.

 _“Fuck.”_ He said it out loud, then, thrusting into Noctis’s mouth again. He didn’t choke this time. It propelled him to do it again, and again, falling in line with the movement of Noctis’s mouth until it was threatening to shake him apart.

The hand that wasn’t braced against the fridge, the one still tangled too tight in Noctis’s hair, pulled him back. _“Noct.”_

The prince went with a whine, scrubbing the back of his hand against his mouth. “What?” he complained, eyes practically boring holes into Ignis’s cock. “Let me.”

Ignis had to jerk him back _again_ when he started forward. _“Hang_ on.” He _had_ a plan– he was _planning_ to accomplish it– “Let _me_ –” He took one step forward and his knees buckled. “Damn…!” Noctis made a noise that sounded like a giggle, and Ignis shot him a faint, glaring grin. “Stop it. Come here,” he said, bracing his shoulder against the fridge. He wiggled his fingers beneath Noctis’s arm. “Up.”

“But–”

_“Up.”_

Noctis clamoured back to his feet. “What?”

Ignis slid his hands down to Noctis’s hips. “Trust me?”

An eye roll. “Stupid question. Next.”

“Noct.”

“ _Yes,_ Iggy, I trust you, I always do, I always have, what _now?”_

He deftly pushed Noctis’s pants down to his knees and took him in hand. It was… an odd sensation. A _good_ sensation. Things he had only dreamed about, again. He’d seen Noctis’s cock before, seen him naked countless times throughout their life. It had always been professional _._ It was his job. Feelings hadn’t begun to play a role until later in life. Now he had him in hand and stroking his palm along him, and flicking his gaze back to the prince’s face as he moaned and his head dropped back on his shoulders.

“Good?”

 _“Fuck_ yes.”

Ignis hummed, and then wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks. Bless the Astrals for people who penned erotic literature, honestly. He might not have any physical practice, but at least he could have ideas. Execution was something else, but Noctis was locking his hands around his neck and practically _panting_ already– _so_ receptive to touch, things Ignis had never known before this…

He rolled his hips, swallowed his groan, relished in the slide of their cocks and breathed in short, sharp bursts himself as he trailed kisses away from Noctis’s mouth and up his jaw.

“God, Iggy… you’re so good… so–” His breath caught, a soft grunt as he worked awkwardly in tandem with the press of Ignis’s hips.

“Noctis,” he breathed out, the weight of his name falling off of his tongue with all the reverence and respect he could muster. A prayer, an oath. His hips jerked forward and he came on his hand, his stomach, _Noctis_ , feeling dizzy even as he tried to keep kissing him through the waves.

He didn’t catch the look on his face when Noct followed suit. It really was a damn shame. But he heard the hitch in his breath and the half muffled, drawn out cry before the prince buried his face against his neck, felt the additional wetness between them, and it was good, anyway. It was great.

Then Noct was folding against him, and Ignis had no strength left in his body to keep them both upright. He tried to ease their passage to the ground, locking his arms around his prince and holding him as they ended in a tangle on the kitchen floor.

Noct kept his face pressed against his chest, and Ignis turned his face into Noctis’s hair again. Both of them were still breathing hard. Words were slow in coming. Ignis had a few, however. He swallowed, and said, very quietly, “I love you, too.” Like he still wasn’t allowed to say it. A part of him was still afraid he wasn’t, _despite_ the fact he’d just had him off in the kitchen of a house that wasn’t theirs.

Noctis probably didn’t even remember having said his variation of _I love you_ , last week. It felt like ages ago, too. So much continued to happen, but Ignis wasn’t likely to forget.

The prince hummed and nuzzled into his warmth. “Mhmm…”

Ignis swallowed against the lump in his throat, and smiled even though Noctis couldn’t see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sinday
> 
> i have lots i could say but ~~i'm actually embarrassed for some reason so~~ i'm goinG TO ZIP AWAY


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~lead me not into temptation; i can find the way myself~~  
> 
>  ~~~~Weddings bells are on the horizon

“I should _probably_ get dinner started,” Ignis said carefully. He didn’t relinquish playing with Noctis’s hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. “The rest of our friends will be expecting it when they return.”

“They’ll be late.” Noctis’s voice was still muffled against Ignis’s chest, low and lazy. For awhile, Ignis had thought he had fallen asleep again, before he had started taking up tracing patterns onto his skin.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s pouring down rain.”

“Since when?” He stretched to peer over the cabinet top, but the window was too far away. It had been sunny earlier. Clear skies forecasted, in fact… “Noct.” He looked down at him, and the prince was grinning. “You didn’t.”

“Just to delay them a little bit,” he said, and looked very much the picture of mischievousness Ignis remembered from when they were children. “I knew Monica wouldn’t drive it in.”

 _“Noct.”_ Laughter only served to reward that kind of behavior, but he had never been able to help it. Back when the young prince had managed to talk him into anything, when they were doing something wrong but Ignis couldn’t let him do it _alone_ , before he inevitably took the downfall and accepted the consequences, they would have the _best_ times. He’d always ended up smiling, even when they were being naughty, because Noctis would always be so _happy_.

The same sparkling eyed look he was giving him now, in fact.

“They’re lucky it wasn’t a thunderstorm, that was _a lot_ , Specs, I was a mess.”

“In only the best of ways, I hope.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Mostly I was trying to stop my fangs from coming out in the heat of the moment.”

Oh, right. They did do that, didn’t they? In the heat of the moment, he had very much forgotten. He was suddenly very glad that he had.

“Nonetheless, call off the rain lest they’re out until bedtime.” He sat up slightly and pulled Noct with him.

Pouting on the prince of Lucis was unbecoming… and, frankly, adorable. “I was gonna anyway, gimme a sec.”

They had managed to get their pants back up, at least, even if they had yet to untangle from each other and remove themselves from the floor. Ignis had gently tucked Noct back into his pajamas and then shimmied back into his own things. The button on his trousers was still undone, which he set about rectifying, but he let his shirt stay open over his chest for now.

“You need to change,” he added, pressing the tip of his finger into the drying cum on Noctis’s shirt with a little frown. “And rinse that with cold water or I’ll never get the stain out.”

Noct opened an eye. “And who’s fault is that?” He grinned and closed them again. “I’m trying to concentrate here, Specs.”

“Right.” He smirked, dropping his hand back to Noctis’s thigh. He never did settle on what he was going to make for dinner. He guessed he would just go with what he had initially planned; no time for adjustments now.

Making a noise, Noct curled back up against Ignis’s chest. He would get nowhere like this. “Sleepy,” Noctis mumbled, and Ignis couldn’t bear to move yet.

“Your atmokinesis?”

“It doesn’t help.”

“You shouldn’t use it for something so juvenile.”

Noctis snorted softly. “No big deal.” He pressed a hand against his chest. “I’ll drink before we get to Altissia, anyway.”

“But that doesn’t help you now.”

A shrug.

Ignis raised his eyes heavenward. So cavalier, _always_. He hesitated for a moment before twisting around, a hand braced against Noctis’s back, and felt along the countertop for the knife that he’d left there.

“IIIIIIggy, what are you d– woah, _damn_! What’s that for?”

He gave him a look, and then pressed the blade into his palm. “Relax, Noct.” He folded his fingers over it and sliced into his palm.

“Ignis–!” Noct sat up. “ _Seriously_? You’re worse than I am!”

 _“Someone_ has to care for your health.” He offered his hand. He would have let him bite, except that kind of blood loss made _him_ tired unless it was one and done. Someone had to make dinner for them, still.

“I could have managed,” Noctis grumbled, but took his wrist. “You worried less about my blood intake when I was newly turned.” All the same, he started to suck at the blood at the heel of his hand, and then lick his way around his fingers.

“That’s not true. I was just quieter about it.” He flexed his fingers.

The prince might have planned to respond, but sucking blood off of Ignis’s fingers seemed to have him distracted enough to not say anything at all.

How surreal. Just months ago and he wouldn’t have ever dreamed about this. He really wouldn’t have, given that he had only realized the extent of his feelings for the prince _after_ he had ceased to be human. Now said prince had sucked him off in the _kitchen_ , of all places, and he’d brought them both to completion himself. Add in licking blood off his hand he’d sliced open purposefully and it sounded like a strange, surreal alternate reality. One that he would not trade for anything, mind.

… well, maybe he would have, if it meant Noct had gotten to stay human. _He_ probably would have preferred that, over all of this, and Ignis couldn’t fault him.

The pass of Noctis’s tongue over the gash in his hand was a strange feeling, but it was oddly soothing, stealing away the ache throbbing beneath his skin.

“You shouldn’t be so rash,” Noct murmured, and that was a kiss against his still freely bleeding palm, and Ignis wasn’t sure if it was that statement or the absurdity of it all that made him burst out laughing.

Noctis looked startled for a moment, and then went back to grinning as Ignis cleared his throat, covered his mouth. “Excuse me–”

“You should laugh more often,” he interrupted. “You’re beautiful when you do.”

 _Beautiful._ What a term to be applied to him. He was nothing in comparison to the prince still half sprawled between his legs. “Yes, well.” The usual fidget, touching fingers to his glasses, and then inwardly cursing when he smeared blood beneath his left eye. “Ah–”

Fingertips pressed against his chest, and Noctis leaned subtly forward. “Are you _trying_ to tempt me?” he asked, gaze on the blood. Unlike that predatory look that used to be in his eyes during feedings– the nervous excitement that, in turn, had made Ignis nervous, too– his eyes were all teasing. And dark. So dark it had blown most of the blue into black, and he had seen that intensity before when fixated on his blood. The first time they’d kissed, when Ignis had pressed his finger against the small bead of blood that had welled up from Noctis’s fangs catching his lip.

He hadn’t forgotten the rush of heat beneath his skin at that kind of look, and felt it again now, with a wave of trepidation at an idea forming in his head. The latter aside, he was going to do it, anyway, because the look the prince was giving him had already brought a slight smirk to his face.

“No,” he said, and made it very matter-of-fact. “If I was _trying_ to tempt you…” He placed two bloodied fingers on his tongue, and closed his lips around them to suck.

Noctis’s mouth fell open a little. _Good_ , he thought, with a rush of devilish humor that produced a hum around his knuckles.

Then he pulled off, with a much more obscene noise than Noct had made earlier, and licked the remaining traces from his lips. “… you’d be well aware.”

Noctis’s hands landed hard on either shoulder, shoving him backwards. They’d ended up far enough away from the wall that he didn’t crack his head on it on the way down. Even so, he wasn’t certain he would have cared, what with the way Noct was looking at him.

“Next time,” the prince said softly, and his breathing had increased again, “I’ll have you.”

The thrill coursed through Ignis’s veins hard enough to hurt, nerves alight with fire and anxiety all at once. He swept a hand along to Noctis’s shoulder, and a knee up his leg. And then he forced him over, bodily rolling him onto the linoleum, dark hair splayed beneath him.

“Who says I won’t have _you_ , Highness?” he breathed, lips dipping low to touch his throat.

Noctis fisted his hands in his hair and pulled him into a kiss.

 

“Dinner smells good, Iggy.”

“Indeed.” He was ladling stew into bowls at the counter. “You’ll have to thank Noct for his help as well. I doubt I would have gotten it ready in time if not for him.”

True. They had gone no further than heated kissing, and Noctis eagerly dealing with the remaining blood oozing from his hand. Ignis had decided he would deal with the taste of blood, and risk the impending stomach ache, if it meant getting Noct to react like that again. He had swallowed more of his own blood by getting a bloody nose on the battlefield, anyway.

The downfall was, by the time Ignis had urged Noctis up, there had been a considerable mess: blood on his hand and arm, the smudges along his face, painted against Noctis’s jawline and drying into Ignis’s hairline. To say nothing of their clothing. Both of them had required a change and wash, then. Ignis had very studiously ignored Noctis as he had undressed to shower, and still felt flush when he caught sight of his erection in the mirror. He’d splashed cold water on his face and gone to start dinner.

After cajoling Noct into assisting after his shower, they had managed to finish just in time for the rest of their party to return home.

“I’m gonna miss having Gladdy and you guys around,” Iris said. “Especially when you make us dinner like this– wait, is that _blood_?”

 _Drat_. Ignis paused in ladling, looking over at the smudge of blood at the edge of the countertop. Likely from when he’d pulled himself to his feet. “Yes,” he said carefully, holding up his bandaged hand. He had been slightly hasty with that cut; it required gauze more than a simple adhesive bandage. All the more an excuse for the blood, however.

“You’re hurt!”

“A minor miscalculation,” he corrected. “I was… distracted.”

“Was it King’s Knight?” Iris asked. “Gladdy’s always playing that.”

“Yeah, like you aren’t.”

Noctis made a noise into his coffee. “I forgot to harvest again. Damn!”

“Oh! Me too!”

“Phones _down_ at the table,” Ignis interrupted. “We need to prepare for our departure to Altissia tomorrow.”

“Altissia, baby! Finally!” Prompto smacked Noctis’s shoulder. “Lady Luna!”

“Quit it!”

“Your _wedding!”_

Ignis sat down with his bowl, and ignored the pang of discomfort in his stomach.

“Not going specifically for the wedding, you know,” Noct grumbled, spooning up a large carrot from his bowl and reaching across the table to deposit it in Ignis’s.

“Yeah, but, like… it’s still a thing that’s gonna happen? Right?”

Noct shrugged. Ignis chose to ignore the addition of extra vegetables in his own bowl, and ate quietly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Gladio said. “First, he’s got the Hydraean.”

“You’ll be careful, right?” Iris asked, leaning across the table.

“Yeah.”

“And you won’t be gone too long?”

“Don’t plan on it.”

“We’re gonna be waiting, you know.”

“Thanks.” He stabbed a piece of beef in the stew. “I won’t let you down. Any of you.”

An opportunity to lighten the subject. He straightened up slightly, crossing his ankles. His leg bumped into Noctis’s beneath the table. “Well, you’ve already let me down,” he said. “How many times _must_ we have this discussion?” A pointed glance at the collecting vegetables at the side of his bowl.

“I don’t _need_ them.” A rapid-fire answer to an age old complaint. “I don’t need any of this at all, actually!” Rapid-fire, immediate, natural. Nervous. Teasing, but Ignis didn’t miss the faint unhappiness beneath his gaze. He caught and held onto it a moment too long, and then clicked his tongue as he looked back at his stew.

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Always!”

Ignis huffed in good nature, and methodically chewed instead of focusing on the gnawing sensation prickling as his heart.

… always. Yes, well.

As long as they were permitted, at least. That would be far more than he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't shoehorn everything into the last chapter, so a continuation pluuuus a bit of a stark reminder of what's awaiting them. And so plot must go on
> 
> Updates on this one will be a little slow going for a bit, what with Ignis's birthday, Ignoct Week, Fleurentia Week, the Valentine & White Day exchanges, and certain zines I'm applying to! ~~(slaps self what are you thinking)~~ We're at a bit of a lull here in the story - the calm before the storm, per se - so breathe easily for a little while... heh


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrupting the peace

They were all meant to be sleeping, in preparation for leaving early in the morning. Traveling by night wasn’t the best option, so they would have to take extra precaution with Noct, but the prince wasn’t even in the house.

It had gone half three and Ignis had woken feeling strange, unsure if he’d been trapped in his own nightmares or not. He looked for Noct in the bedroom and expected him at the table when he went down for water, but when he found he wasn’t there, sent off a bleary text.

_Where are you?_

_Dock_

Ignis squinted at the word. Fishing, at this time of night, when they all knew they were leaving in the morning?

_You’re supposed to be asleep._

_Yeah couldn’t_

_Are you alright?_

_Yeah_

One word replies _continually_ irked him to the brink of death and back, and it didn’t help that his nerves were already unsettled enough for some unseen reason. So, groaning softly, he collected his shoes and donned his coat over his pajamas and started walking. It was a long way down and around to the fishing spot they had found on the coast.

He hadn’t thought to bring his light. Too much fumbling around in the dark later, he was using the luminance on his phone and shivering in the dark, and Noct looked stunned to see him. Which was saying something, given he could both smell and hear him coming if he was paying attention.

“What are you doing?”

“I came to find you.” He nearly slipped on one of the wet rocks before stepping onto the dock. He actually _wasn’t_ fishing. Now Ignis knew something had to be wrong. “Although I’m lucky to have found anything, I think.”

“I guess it does help to be able to see at night.” He slumped sideways against Ignis’s shoulder once he was settled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to come all the way down.”

“Well, a brisk night-time walk is beneficial, every now and then.” Ignis swept his arm around him. It was comfortable, but Noctis was tense. He chose to say nothing, waiting on the prince to share on his own accord, if he so desired.

He did, eventually, when the quiet of the night and the lull of waves were threatening to drag Ignis back under to sleep. “Prompto mentioned the wedding. I… it still has to go on, doesn’t it?” He sat up a little, twisting around to look Ignis in the face. “Because I have to have _heirs_ , someone to carry on the line when I eventually kick it. But I don’t– I–” He sucked in a sharp breath and looked away. “… I don’t think I ever wanted that, and I want it even less now.”

He was right. Ignis had thought about it before. The line of Lucis… was paramount to their country. Noct would reign for a long time, but what of after this, after reclaiming Insomnia, if he and Ignis were left to their own devices… even if he and Noctis entertained something like marriage, they could never have children of their own. And there was no one else left in the line of Lucis to step into the position to aid them in that.

But he sounded so _broken_ , and Ignis was tired enough that it made his eyes ache in sympathy. He couldn’t imagine ever falling in love with anyone else asides Noct now. He couldn’t imagine giving Noct to someone else now. He would. But he didn’t want to.

When the royal line took precedence over wants and desires…

“But I… love Luna, too,” Noctis continued, softer. “Not… not the way I guess I’m supposed to. I’m excited to see her, and I want to help her, and I want to be with her, but not… not making out and sex and _kids_.” His hands clenched into fists. “I want her happy, I want to see her happy, just… just not with me. Like that. Because I can’t. Because there’s you. And I love you, and I’ve _loved_ you– she’s– she’s one of my _best_ friends but you’re– you’re _so_ much more now–”

Ignis wrapped both arms around Noctis’s chest and squeezed. He pulled him back and buried his face in his hair and didn’t know how to breathe, let alone speak. He had said _I love you_. Precisely that. He had said _I love you_ , and he sounded so dangerously close to tears.

“Noct…”

Noctis took a breath. He didn’t look up from the ground. “I feel _horrible_ ,” he said eventually. “I feel like… she is special to me, she’s _so…_ ” He swallowed. “… but now the idea… _marriage_ … I’m scared to death, Specs. What am I supposed to do?”

_Please don’t ask me that question._

He couldn’t very well say that. He could say nothing like it at all, in fact. He was his _advisor_. He was meant to _advise_.

 _“Thoughts, Mr Scientia?”_ Suddenly a memory of Regis’s voice, and surprise silenced him for another beat. Not talking to him, but to his uncle, a remembered moment from a meeting he’d sat in on when he had been very small. For a moment, he could remember the king and his uncle’s faces, voices, in perfect clarity. And then the details started to blur again, and there was misery on his tongue.

It was easy. There was one logical explanation, in order to guarantee the Lucis bloodline. Dismiss emotion and nudge him towards what had been predetermined. But Ignis couldn’t _do_ that. Not anymore. He couldn’t just–

“Oh God,” Noct rasped, sitting up suddenly. It dislodged Ignis’s arms. Noctis scrubbed his hands at his eyes. “You woke the others?”

“No?” He hadn’t thought he had, at least, but they wouldn’t have followed without texting him first–

“No. Wait. Something’s not right.”

“What?” He was immediately at attention, sleep deprivation giving way to nervous, tired energy. He might have been as tightly coiled as Noctis was. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, and held a hand level with Noctis’s chest as they rose to their feet, ready to bodily protect him if need be.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, someone. Something. Someone.”

“Noct?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “There’s so _much_ – God I can’t figure it out past that smell–”

“What smell?” Noctis’s nose was subpar to none, but he didn’t smell _anything_ except salt from the ocean.

“Dunno.” He was practically trembling. “It’s knocking the rest of my senses out, it’s so overwhelming–”

 _Overwhelming._ For some reason, it was that word that clicked in Ignis’s mind. Back when he was actively hunting vampires and not just bounties, they’d always had a scent control when dealing with vamps. They could smell you from far away; it made them difficult to surprise and even harder to kill. So, scent control, meant to _overwhelm_ the senses to disorient them enough for their guard to go down.

Even as that was going through his head, there was a _pop!_ of what he intrinsically knew as gunfire on a silencer. He'd been there, and done that–

 _“Get down!”_ he ordered, instinct throwing himself to shield Noctis. Silver bullets wouldn’t kill him, unless they hit something vital, but if they hit _Noct_ –

“Wh–!”

Noctis must have slipped, or taken that step back and missed the edge of the dock. Hands scrabbled at Ignis’s arm for balance, and the next thing he knew, water was surrounding them both. He choked on a mouthful of it. Everything was murky black. His head broke the surface and he sucked in a deep breath as Noct surfaced a few feet away.

“Stay,” Ignis rasped. “Stay here, underwater, hold your breath!”

“But–”

“ _Do_ it!” he ordered, grabbing the edge of the dock to haul himself back up. “Let me handle it.” And then, louder, “I’m _not_ your target, I’m human!” No hail of bullets. That was a good start. He got his feet back under him and started forward a few steps. “What faction are you with?”

A long pause, and then “… Scientia?”

His glasses were slipping down his nose. He pushed them back up. “Yes,” he said warily. It wasn’t a voice he recognized, but clearly they were familiar. Someone from a hunter's meeting, perhaps?

Light flared up around them and Ignis winced, shielding his eyes until the hunter came into view. No, not someone he knew. A face he did recognize from their meetings, but it wasn’t someone immediately from Insomnia. He looked just as wary as Ignis felt.

“The vampire. I tracked it from Cavaugh. Don’t lie to me, Scientia, are you _protecting_ it?”

If this man wasn’t from Insomnia… the whole of Eos knew who the prince was, but not many had yet to realize the people who were traveling with him. He hesitated, and it was answer enough.

 _“Why?”_ He paused, then, and looked at Ignis more closely. “Are you trying to be blooded?”

“No.”

“Then you’re a donor.”

“No.” It was a less honest answer, but it wasn’t as if he was there _specifically_ for that.

“Unwilling donor? Look, we can get you help, vamp venom is so addictive that you’re not thinking clearly–”

The Gods give him strength. “It’s not that,” he interrupted.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re compromised. You know what I have to do.”

His weapons came to him with barely a thought. “I can’t let you.”

“Then I will be forced to incapacitate you too.” The hunter raised his gun. “Hunters cannot sympathize with the monster, lest they become one themselves.” Ignis tensed as he trained it on him. Duck and cover could be his escape route, if he was fast enough. “Don’t make me do this.”

“Don’t, then,” Ignis replied quietly. “There’s no need.”

“Wrong response.”

 _“Stop!”_ Noctis wasn’t there and then he was, dripping wet and stopping next to Ignis with determination on his face. His hand brushed against Ignis’s arm, fingertips pressed against his own wet skin. The same sort of motion Ignis always did in battle, concerned instinct propelling him to try and shield him from imminent attack.

Hadn’t he told him to stand _aside_ –

The hunter was young. Still brash. He fired the moment the prince appeared next to Ignis and Ignis felt his heart lodge in his throat. But Noctis was faster, quicker when his attention was trained on and focused. He avoided the bullet, and glared down at the hunter, fangs bared. “Ignis isn’t my familiar, but I’ll protect him like one. Leave him _alone.”_

“Noct–”

“You wi– wait.” The hunter lowered his gun, if only slightly. “Noct… Noctis? _Prince_ Noctis?”

Ignis balked at his own damning mistake.

“ _You’re_ the vampire??” The gun dropped from position. “The prince of Lucis is a vampire?!”

“You bet your ass I am.”

“That’s why you left town!” the hunter accused, looking at Ignis. Ignis stepped forward a half step, angling himself in front of Noctis again. “That’s why you left the hunters!”

Was that what they were saying? He wondered. He didn’t care.

“We knew that the prince wasn’t dead, but we had heard he was in Altissia…” A glance, back and forth between the prince and his advisor. “But you left with him because he was blooded.”

“Yes,” Ignis said shortly, flexing his fingers around the handle of his blade. “My duties per Crownsguard took me in a… different direction.”

“Protecting vampires!”

“He is our prince.”

“He’s not _Noctis_ , he’s…”

“I’m still the prince of Lucis,” Noctis retorted. “Inhuman or not.”

“They won’t accept you,” the hunter blurted. “Your whole kingdom– there’s no _way!_ A vampire king?! Yeah right!”

“Maybe not, but the throne is still mine. Go _home._ ”

“You should have died in the Crown City.”

Ignis opened his mouth to retort, blood boiling, and Noctis beat him to it.

“You think I don’t know that?” he hissed, and Ignis looked at him sharply. He wasn’t paying attention to him. “Go back to your faction. Tell them I’m here. That I’m alive. And that I’m a vampire. Tell them.”

“Highness,” he started again.

“They won’t accept you,” the hunter repeated.

 _“Go,”_ Noctis growled, fangs extending. Sopping wet and exuding anger and _you think I don’t know that?_

Ignis held his breath and waited. He could easily incapacitate this hunter, but even with his new circumstances, he wasn’t compelled to attack one of his kind unless necessary.

He didn’t. He glared between the two of them, and then holstered his gun. Then he looked at Ignis, gaze flat and cold and illuminated only by his light. “You’ll regret this, Scientia. You made the wrong choice.”

“I’d make it again.” He dismissed his blades. “I am sorry it came out like this.”

“You’re as good as dead to us. Amicitia, too, if he’s with you. Sympathizers are just as bad as actual vampires.” Then he turned, and marched away, making no effort to be quiet as he left.

Ignis tried not to break face as the tension fled. At his side, Noct draped visibly. Shoulders slumping, hand covering his mouth, staring determinedly at his shoes.

“Noct?”

Only then he looked up, and didn’t look directly at Ignis. Ice took ahold of his heart and tried to pull it to a stop. “Are you alright?”

“… Yeah. You?”

“Fine.” The prince shoved his wet hair out of his face and then pushed both hands in his jacket pockets. “Let’s go back. You should tell the others.”

Ignis nodded slowly. “Yes. We should.” Gladio would be _livid._ For the moment, Ignis merely reached out to sweep his hand down Noctis’s arm, and curled his fingers around his wrist. Noctis slowly relinquished his pocket, tangling his fingers with Ignis’s hesitantly, and then squeezing all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chinhands* I forgot about this very vampiric chapter. Yep, there's some consequences happening in the background
> 
> Ignoct Week is nearly over and I'm prepared for Fleurentia Week, so after that updates should mostly be back to normal! But still send me all your good juju for getting into the Ignoct zine I applied for ゝω・ if you guys applied, all the good vibes to you too, you're great and I hope you get in! ☞ ☞


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the docks of Altissia!

Ignis sighed as he folded himself down next to Noctis, rejoining him in the deckhouse as the sun shone bright outside.

“Is he any better?”

“Not really.” Finally being able to board the boat to Altissia had been exciting, for the first hour or so. It was _beautiful._ Ignis had stood on the deck and stared out over the endless expanse of water and felt the breeze through his hair. They were finally on their way to Altissia. Their initial destination. He was excited... and apprehensive. What awaited them? He didn’t know.

Before that, though, Prompto was sick. He’d gone suspiciously quiet about an hour in, and then been wracked with motion sickness bad enough to make Ignis’s stomach churn in sympathy. He and Gladio were looking after him, but there was only so much to be done. Ignis had left him curled up on the seat, halfway tucked against Gladio's chest, out on the deck.

He was feeling poorly himself, product of last night’s disruption of sleep. But exhaustion was manageable. Seasickness was worse. He’d check up on them in a little bit.

“That sucks.” Noct rest his chin on his knees. His eyes closed, and Ignis frowned.

“Are _you_ alright?”

“Just tired.” He shrugged slightly, and then reopened his eyes again. “And water kind of… I dunno, makes me nervous. Like this.”

“Ah.” Wait, how had he not known that? They had gone swimming in Galdin. “Since when has this happened?”

A side glance, and a huff. “Since I turned. It’s like, I guess it’s not so bad if there’s land somewhere nearby? Being out here, though… it’s so…” He made a face. _“Vast.”_ Ignis slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Noctis continued. “I’d say it was that dumb myth about not being able to cross water, but I know that’s a lie so it’s even more stupid to be restless like this.”

“Not at all.” He chuckled as Noct rest his head on his shoulder. “Try not to vomit on me, that’s all I ask.”

“I’m not nauseous, just… nervous.”

He smoothed his hand against his arm. “We’ll get there safely.”

“Yeah, I know…”

“You may as well get some rest. We’ll be out here awhile longer.”

“I know,” he repeated, and turned into Ignis’s embrace to half hide his face against his shoulder. He breathed in, slow and deep, and said nothing.

Ignis had tried to wait on him to come up to bed last night, but he had fallen asleep before he had joined him. He’d been quiet ever since their confrontation. Ignis didn’t know if it was because he’d pulled rank as a vampire, or as future king, or if it was because _you should have died in the Crown City._ He had wanted to talk to him, or at the very least, _hold_ him, but exhaustion had claimed him before Noctis could come upstairs. Ignis’s sleep had been short, and fitful, weighed heavy with his own shortcomings, but the one consolation was that Noct had been curled up against him come morning.

After casting a glance at Cid in the helmsman’s seat, Ignis pressed a kiss to Noctis’s forehead. It had been a long day already. Adrenaline would kick back in once they reached their destination, but they may as well relax for now.

He didn’t doze off; sitting on the floor was too uncomfortable and the swell of waves beneath the ship was an unusual sensation. He could periodically hear Prompto being sick out on the deck, and Gladio mumbling something in reply. Cid grumbled a few times in response, but held his tongue when he saw the prince trying to sleep.

They both were mistaken in thinking Noctis was trying to sleep. He must have been merely thinking instead. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but serious.

“Did you know him?”

He resumed rubbing along his back, and looked down at him. “Hm?”

“That hunter. Did you know him?”

“… No. I’ve seen him at our meetings, but I’ve never been properly introduced.”

“He knew you.”

“So it seems.”

“He said they think you abandoned the hunters.” His hand balled into a fist on Ignis’s thigh. “… so, would you go back? Join a different faction?”

He smoothed his hand over the prince’s. “I wouldn’t be welcome.”

“But _would_ you?”

Ignis sighed. “I doubt it.” He’d thought it before: how _could_ he? It was likely the most hypocritical thing he could have ever said in his entire _life_. He had no love lost for vampires– he couldn’t forget losing his _mother_ , losing his home, nearly losing his own life when he was a child– but Noctis had… opened his eyes. In more ways than just regarding their relationship.

“Dad taught me vamps were all so bad… most of them probably are, but…” Noct shifted a little. His eyes were open. “I met a clan, when we backtracked to Longwythe. Or, well, they found me, they were all advanced enough in their powers they could stay hidden until they had me cornered–”

Concern jolted through him, prompting his poor posture up straight. _“What?”_ He hadn’t ever told him. “When was this?”

Noct shrugged. “You all were sleeping, I was exploring. But it was… it was cool, really. They messed with me for a little bit, but then they said they knew I was a fledgling and asked me about my clan and stuff. We had drinks at their den.”

“You went back to their den??”

“Focus on the bigger picture, Iggy.”

“I’m…” He took a deep breath and struggled to let go of his concern. Clearly, it had gone fine. He hadn’t known Noctis had been _meeting up with vampires_ while they were asleep, but… those _were_ his people. And he had just said he wouldn’t be hunting anymore. Surely killing on sight was different than being apprehensive, though? He _had_ to have an open mind here. “… trying. Apologies.”

“They’ve never killed anyone,” Noctis continued. “They go to bleedings, there’s people there that… like you do for me, let us drink, they always have permission and they control themselves. They stay outside human domains, they just have their own lives and they’re… good people. Good people who got turned. They didn’t have a choice. Like me.”

He had found his vampire pride, Ignis realized, marveling down at him. After everything he had grown up with, the _people_ he had grown up around, his disdain after he had first been changed… He was accepting it in ways that Ignis, as a human, never could.

The part of him that was rooted firmly in his hunter ways was scared, because what did that mean Noct would become in the future? The part of him that was trying to change was… _happy_ , that Noct was beginning to accept what it was for what it was and not have to suffer for it.

“You sound just like your old man.”

They both looked up. Noct pushed himself up straight, too, and looked at Cid’s back. “What do you mean?”

“Reggie, always goin’ on about bloodsuckers being good this and good that. Got himself into trouble, he did. Dragged us all into it more times than I could count.”

“He… did?”

“Couldn’t tell you how many times I was dragging his sorry ass out of those dens cause he wanted to _talk_.”

“My dad…” He sounded stunned. Disbelieving. “But he had so many notches on his belt from hunting, I thought…”

“Never ran in swinging without cause, your dad. Tried to make the best of it, even when he was doubled over, hurling from a damn bite. Nearly got himself turned, once.”

“No.”

“Does it even really surprise ya?”

“I… I dunno.” His eyebrows were drawn together. He squinted out towards the windows. “I don’t think I really knew him at all… all those stories he told me… I never thought…” Noct sighed, and rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “There are so many things I needed to ask him.”

“You ain’t the only one. Once Reggie became king, things changed.”

“Especially at the end…” Noct muttered.

Ignis couldn’t imagine how he felt. His own uncle had been part of the royal circle. He had been the closest thing he had to a father, but even then he hadn’t spent much leisure time with him as a child. To be truthful, Ignis had spent more time with Regis because of his relationship with Noct, when they were young. The king had become something of a father figure to him, too, but he had never thought it was proper to let on about that.

It was true that even he had noticed how distant Regis had gotten as the ring had taken its toll, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t his son. Noctis _was_.

“Hey, guys, check this out.”

Noct dropped his hands from his face as Gladiolus raised his voice. “Yeah?” he called back, and then twisted around to look out the window. They were tinted, but Ignis would still pull him back down in a moment.

For now, he stretched up on his knees to look out, too, and there was the gleaming city of Altissia coming into view. “A breathtaking view,” he murmured, and it _was_. He’d done his research on the city prior to their journey, even before Noct had been turned. Back when their only reason for the visit was a wedding, things had seemed even more shiny. Now… well, it was still beautiful, and it still sent a rush of excitement through his body. A brand new nation, foreign soil beneath their feet and Noctis at his side. It was tempered if he paused to think about what would become of Noctis and Lunafreya’s relationship, but he wouldn’t do that for now. He couldn’t.

He glanced at Noctis out of reflex– what was _his_ reaction, to the city he’d meant to have come to from ages ago now, the city he was supposed to have been married in?– and the prince was looking at him. Ignis had to do a double take before that processed. “Problem, Noct?”

He was looking at him like the city didn’t exist. Ignis could… understand the feeling, although not for  _Noct_ to look at  _him_ in that way.

“I’m just thinking,” Noctis said. He still didn't look away. He tilted his head, and then smiled softly. “It’s not going to be as bad as I thought, is it? Being here. It’s… nice. It’s gorgeous.” Still looking at him.

The future was uncertain. So many things were. But Altissia’s beauty wasn’t in question, and neither was Noctis’s.

“And you’re here. Everyone’s here,” Noct added, eyes flicking up to the deck. “So that’s good.”

“Always,” Ignis said. Solemn and serious. He would _always_ be there, as long as Noct needed him. For as long as he could, whatever it took. “Come what may, never doubt that. We’ll always be here.”

“Yeah. You’ll keep me safe.”

Ignis nodded, and cracked a genuine smile. “My duty, per his Majesty’s instructions.”

“You keep _saying_ that,” Noctis retorted, with a grin, and took Ignis’s face in both of his hands and kissed him. It was hard, and fast, with a tangle of emotion slamming into him too quickly for Ignis to even try to decipher. But it was good. He really would trade it for nothing in this universe.

Noct pulled back. Just enough to speak. “And come what may,” he said quietly, “I... I love you. _I_ always will.”

“I love you, too.” He leaned his forehead against Noctis’s, and pretended that it didn’t feel like a preparation for goodbye. He wasn’t getting married yet. If necessity still deemed the prince and the Oracle to be wed, he would step aside. But that day was not today. Today would still be for them.

That was so inappropriately romantic that it almost made him embarrassed to think it. Who would have guessed he would ever be referencing the prince in such thoughts? He really was a lucky man.

Behind them, Cid groaned. “You two’d make me sick if ya didn’t look so damned happy. Now pull yerselves together.”

Ignis cleared his throat as he sat back down, gently coaxing Noctis out of the window, too.

“We’re pulling into Altissia now,” Cid continued, “and you all got work to do. Save all that there macking ‘til you bust up the Niffs and take back Reggie’s place as yer own… or at least wait ‘til I’m off this damn ship so I don’t have to look at ya.”

“Sorry…”

“Oh, let them be,” Gladio said, joining them in the deckhouse. Prompto was still clinging to his side, but his eyes were eager as they looked towards Altissia. “Altissia’s the city of love, isn’t it? At least somebody’s getting _something_.”

“Cid’s right.” Ignis pushed himself to his feet. Best to spearhead this before they could all continue. “Our first priority is lodgings.”

“All work and no play, huh?” Prompto still looked pale, and somehow managed to have enough energy to tease him.

“Makes Ignis a dull boy.”

“You’re welcome to sleep outside,” he remarked airily. “I’m planning for the safety of four walls and a nice bed, however.”

“And bringing the prince with you, no doubt,” Gladio replied, and the man couldn’t have grinned wider if he tried.

Ignis rolled his eyes, and Noctis beat him to responding. “Well, _I’m_ not sleeping outside. _I’m_ the prince.”

“Yeah, and a vampire. All you need’s a coffin and you’re set, right.”

“Hell no!” Noctis retorted, and they were all laughing as they pulled into the city on the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cid: UGH  
> Cid when their backs are turned: ~~lowkey~~ highkey amused
> 
>  
> 
> so yeah, anyway, they're there ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ heh


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in

Weskham informed them that the First Secretary was looking for them, but she didn’t show herself before they retired to the Leville. That meant, until they were able to secure further information about Luna and the covenant, there was little they could do. So, it was back to reconnaissance, with information on the matter… suspiciously limited.

It would give them a few days to appreciate Altissia, but the looming threat of the empire surrounding them would give them little time to relax.

 _Little_ time. Which was to say, it did give them _some_ time. Taking Noct out during the day was a lost cause; the sunlight was bad enough, but the reflection off the water made it impossible to try and handle. So they worked on their own by day, and Ignis had caught Noctis that first whole night they were there to take him out on the town, feeling ridiculous and ridiculously pleased in turns.

By the Six, if they were about to be torn apart by a marriage of necessity– Gods bless Lunafreya’s soul, she could make Noctis happy, Ignis was certain. There was no animosity, just… resignation– then he was going to have at least one proper date with the prince of Lucis.

They had a late night dinner and a stroll along the water’s edge. A gondola ride over to the Ministerial Quarter, and he’d bought them both gelato. He’d been reminded that he was, only slightly, in fact, a lightweight, after such a thing. He’d had to hold Noctis’s hand all the way back to the Leville, dare he say giggly and affectionate, but he hadn’t been tipsy enough to _not_ notice the way his own touch and gaze were lingering on the prince.

But not like that. Not right then. Not, as much as he wanted to, while they were both feeling too carefree with their inhibitions. They needed clear heads. _He_ wanted to remember this. He wanted Noctis to remember it, fondly. He liked to think he was better than a drunken shag.

They had crawled into bed and fallen asleep together instead, still in their day clothes. He’d woken with a headache, and Noct’s morning breath as he yawned in his face, turned over, and went right back to sleep. Ignis had kissed his shoulder and gotten on with the day.

And so, that had meant some shopping.

It wasn’t that he was _embarrassed_ , per se, to linger in front of the section of aisle dedicated to _sexual wellness_ , but perhaps, in retrospect, he should have waited for those two pain pills and glass of water to kick in. The headache was growing, matching what felt suspiciously like a flush on the back of his neck. Maybe it was embarrassment. He should have done some more research, but nerves could only stall him for so long…

“Those kind aren’t the best.”

He fumbled the box of condoms right out of his hands. When Gladiolus laughed over his shoulder, Ignis nearly sagged against the shelves. “Gladio.” He fixed his glasses. “What brings you here?”

“Saw you come in. Wondered what you were buying.” He stooped, grabbing the abandoned box from the floor. “I didn’t expect it’d be sex stuff.” He grinned. “Finally going to consummate your relationship with the prince, then?” he asked, dropping his voice.

The heat was crawling further up the back of his neck. “No. … possibly,” he relented, quietly. “Wherever the moment takes us, but I thought to be prepared.”

“Just in case. Right.” Gladio put the box back. “You want these,” he continued, plucking a different box and putting them into Ignis’s hands. “I swear by this brand, great stuff. Comfortable, fitting, comes in different colors. Guessing those are about your size.”

He must have fallen directly down the rabbit hole. “Right.”

“Lube. This stuff’s basic, but gets the job done. Save the more advanced stuff for later on. Just make sure it isn’t too cold when you slather it on him, that’s a buzzkill.”

Slather it on him… like he was a piece of meat for preparing.

Oh.

Ignis was suddenly glad he hadn’t said that out loud. “Right,” he repeated, faintly. Definitely in a different dimension. He was planning for sex with _the prince of Lucis._ Oh, _Astrals_ –

“Take it slow,” Gladio said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get yourself hurt.”

“I’m more concerned about hurting _him_ ,” Ignis replied.

“Oh, he can take it. That’s not even what I meant, and you know it.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“Maybe not, but don’t risk it. Don’t go making _decisions_ that’ll end up hurting you. He’d hate it, and you know he’d hate you for it, too.”

“Don’t be a knight in shining armor.” It was a joke, and remained gentle enough. “Duly noted.”

Gladio snorted softly. “Yeah, you’ve been Prince Charming since you were six, don’t see you turning that off any time soon.”

“Prince Charming?” Hardly. “Is Noct the enchanted princess in this story, then?”

“Oh yeah. Sleeping beauty and all. D’you need to ask?”

Ignis chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” That, he would grant. ‘Sleeping Beauty’ was indeed an apt term for their Noctis.

 

 

He didn’t tell Noct of his outing, and stashed his newly bought things away in his bag for safekeeping. He wouldn’t press the matter.

He didn’t get the chance to, anyway. The next day, Secretary Claustra finally made her presence known– and in turn, Lunafreya’s, too. Ignis had watched the light drain from Noctis’s face at the mention of the imperial soldiers waiting for Accordo to hand her over, and then all four of them resigned to their expected fight. The Secretary scheduled them a meeting for the next day– one that would irrevocably change _something_ , of what Ignis wasn’t entirely sure yet– and then was on her way. The four of them had been left in silence, and Weskham had put drinks down in front of them without asking.

Three days, Claustra told them. Three more days of downtime, before Noctis would undergo the rite with the cooperation of the First Secretary. Three days before the prince was reunited with Lunafreya. Three days to plan, eventualities planned out and planned out again. Noctis handled the negotiation like a true king, and Ignis had never been more proud.

But the stress was taking its toll. Gladiolus grew more antsy– crabby, even– and Prompto’s nerves put _Noctis_ on edge. Ignis had noted him relying more heavily on their supply of blood, and said nothing. And as for himself, his headache was persistent, and threatening to blow into a full migraine by the end of the second of those three nights. He didn’t need it, not then.

So caught up was he in his own head that he didn’t notice Noctis in the lobby of the Leville until he had come forward and taken his arm.

“Specs.”

“Highness.”

He made a face. “Why so formal?”

“Ah, apologies.” His eyes hurt. He’d fallen back heavily into role of advisor and tactician these past few days. “Stress getting to me, I suppose.”

“You worry too much.”

“Now’s not the time to slack off.” He cringed as he heard the lecture in his own voice. Advisor and tactician, indeed.

“Just… relax a little,” Noct said. As if Ignis hadn’t seen him sinking further and further into himself these past few days, too. “It’ll be fine.”

He forced a smile. “Your confidence is overwhelming.”

Noct rolled his eyes. “ _Over_ confident, I’m sure you want to say. But, anyway, I wanted to catch you before you went to bed, I wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He took his hand, and Ignis had to get his feet back under him as he was nearly pulled up the stairs.

Past the door of their room, even.

“Noct?”

“Here.” They stopped outside of the ornately decorated door labeled _Royal Suite_.

Ignis sucked in a sharp breath as Noctis rattled the doorknob. “Noctis–!”

“Damn, of course it locked,” Noct murmured. “Hang on, hang on, where’s… ah!” He produced a key card and swiped it, and Ignis barely had time recognize that _he had a key_ before he swung the door open and ushered him in. “Ta daaa!”

Ignis gaped.

He had seen opulence. He had been working with royalty since he was six. Walking into the Citadel each and every day had garnered pride he had never known. But compared to the places they were used to staying lately, even compared to the prince’s old apartment in Insomnia, inconspicuously plain, the Royal Suite was a _dream_.

He had to spend a moment merely looking, and then he looked back at Noctis in wonder. “Noct… what did you do?”

Noctis laughed, leaning back against the door after he closed it. “I didn’t _do_ anything. I didn’t compel them to give me the room or something.”

“How did you _afford_ this?” Ignis breathed, and he looked around again. “Our funds will be utterly depleted…”

“Sold some things.” Ignis looked back at him. Noct shrugged. “I’d been saving up for stuff, but decided I’d rather… you and me, just… here. In Altissia. The lap of luxury. ‘til we can have it again in the Crown City. _If_ we can,” he added.

“I’m…” What could have he possibly sold to afford this room? “… sure we will.”

“No false reassurances tonight, Specs?” He moved away from the door. “Just… nothing. Just for tonight? Let’s just have a drink and some stupid fancy food and look out over the town or something.” He looked up at him, stopping by his side. “It sounds stupid, but I don’t know… I don’t know what’s…”

Ignis silenced him with a nod, and then a kiss. “It’s not stupid at all, Noct.” They didn’t know what was coming. When Noctis set about the rite, when he was finally able to re-acquaint himself with Lady Lunafreya, and when they were inevitably forced to leave Altissia as their journey took them elsewhere… there were too many unknowns, and it was pointless to guess.

For now, it was only the two of them. Wasn’t that how the old saying went? Ignis touched his forehead to Noctis’s, and slipped his arms around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what could happen in the royal suite ~~have you seen how much it costs to stay there my gil just to make gifs sigh~~ what _the fuck_ could possibly happen in the royal suite
> 
> :3c 
> 
> lol...


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _catharsis_

He had gone to collect his bag from their shared room; Gladio and Prompto both were still out, which was just as well. Ignis was certain Noctis had already told them that they wouldn’t be back tonight, if not told them about the new lodgings. It was easier to collect his things and move them over; it made it easier to keep his toiletries organized and change clothes quicker.

The bed was heavenly.

Even more so when he had taken Noctis by his shoulders and guided him back onto the mattress, kissing him along the way. One step, two steps, three– until the back of Noctis’s knees hit the bed and he was able to gently guide him back onto the blankets. Noctis’s lips against his neck as they’d stood on the balcony had been good, but this was a marked improvement.

“Ignis…”

He hummed around the bruise he was working on on the prince’s neck, and then pulled back to look at him when no reply was forthcoming. Noct was just _looking_ at him. Ignis raised his weight from his elbows in preparation to sit back, but two hands caught his shoulders and held him there.

“Noct?”

“Sorry,” he muttered, letting go of him. “I just… can’t believe we’re here. Can’t believe _you’re_ here, that you actually… want me.” He licked his lips. He was nervous, Ignis realized with a pang of dismay. That wasn’t how he wanted this to be. If _he_ was nervous himself, that was fine. But not Noct.

The looks, the touching, and the heated kissing on the balcony had all been precursor. There was no plan for restraint. Noctis sweeping heavy hands beneath Ignis’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head as they fumbled back to the bed. The breeze against his exposed skin, gooseflesh that was swept away with a warm touch, and the heat pouring from Noctis’s gaze as Ignis repaid the favor in kind and removed the prince’s shirt too. Noctis unbuttoning and unzipping Ignis’s trousers before his hands were distracted by framing Ignis’s face as he kissed him, bracing himself back against the bed. Ignis kissing him as passionately as he could, propping himself over top of him and marveling, himself, that the prince of Lucis could ever be interested in _him_.

There were no words spoken in what was to transpire. It was given. Wordless, as so many things were with them. It was very nearly the last night before summoning the Hydraean. Whatever loomed on the horizon for Noctis and Lunafreya, tonight was _theirs_. One first, and last, desperate attempt to memorize the way that Noctis looked during the moments of pleasure Ignis could give him. To see and hear and _feel_ , so that he could have those memories of skin beneath his palms and a voice saying his name in his ear. To worship Noctis as he ought to be, before he was allowed the pleasure no longer.

The ache in his heart stabbed at the thought of never having this again. It did hurt slightly more to think he might unconsciously be pressuring either of them into it because of that, though.

“I do want you,” he said shortly, and sought Noctis’s hands from the blankets. “In every _possible_ way. But we don’t have to do this, Noct. There are… other ways,” he added, very gently nudging a knee at the swell between Noctis’s thighs, “to chase pleasure.”

But he was already shaking his head. “You. I want _you_. Please. I _am_ nervous,” he admitted, “but… like you were, that first time you asked me to feed from you. You trusted me. I trust you. I love you.”

Ignis closed his eyes, briefly.

“Don’t back out on me now, Specs, I _really_ don’t think I could take the blue balls right about now.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him again. Harder, quicker. “Well, we can’t have that.” Another peck on the lips. “Now can we?”

Noctis’s hands slid down his bare back, nails dragging along his skin. They were just this side of too sharp. Instincts. Ignis didn’t care. And they clamped onto his hips and pulled him down; Ignis followed the hint and rolled against Noctis’s hips. The prince moaned, and drowned out Ignis’s breath of exaltation, and when Ignis pulled back again, they merely _looked_ at each other again.

He wasn’t certain who was more red in that moment, but the flush high on Noctis’s cheeks served to ignite the fire further beneath his skin. Noct scrabbled at the waistband of Ignis’s trousers, and Ignis kissed him with abandon he had never let himself feel in anything except his fantasies.

A fantasy. This fantasy. Oh _Gods–_

He nearly collapsed on top of him when Noctis shoved his pants down enough to grip at his cock, and bit hard at his lip. He tasted blood. When he pulled away, there was a thin line of saliva– and the suspected blood. “Sor–”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Noctis said, thumb flicking over the head of Ignis’s cock, “apologize for blood, Specs. You think _I_ mind?”

“Right. Habit.”

He thrust into the ring of Noctis’s fingers and sucked a mark onto the prince’s clavicle. Noctis hummed beneath him; he could feel the vibrations beneath his lips, through his body, rattling him to the core. The prince’s ankle slid up along Ignis’s calf, very nearly knocking him down atop him again, but–

“No,” he ground out, and forced himself to pull back. “These need to go.” He plucked at Noctis’s trousers. “If you’re certa–”

“God yes, take them off!”

Ignis might have rolled his eyes, and if he palmed along the tent in the prince’s trousers before he set to taking them off, the moan was purely gratuitous reward.

It was nothing different than all of the many times Ignis had helped Noctis to dress or undress. It was unbuttoning and unzipping, hooking his fingers into his belt loops and shimmying them down. It was tugging his briefs down and setting them aside with his jeans. Methodical. Practised. Except it wasn’t, and Noctis was breathing hard, body hot and flushed and _inviting_. Ignis had shifted back to accommodate for movement and in preparation to remove his own trousers… but he, carefully, eyes locked on Noctis’s, leaned down to press his lips to the joint of his groin. When Noct breathed in sharply, and buried his fingers into Ignis’s hair, he continued to nuzzle his face along the soft hair leading down from his stomach, and, again, paused at Noctis’s cock to look up at him. A question. Noct nodded briefly, and quickly, and his nails dug into Ignis’s scalp when Ignis wrapped his lips around him.

What was it Noct had said… he hadn’t known if he was any good at giving oral? Ignis didn’t know if _he_ was, either, but he could remember the wet heat of Noctis’s mouth on his own cock, and he thought perhaps that in itself caused at least part of Noctis’s reaction: moaning loudly, and jerking his hips up. Ignis tried to relax his jaw to accommodate, again, tried to ignore his gag reflex. Experimentally swept his tongue up the length of the prince’s cock, and then dragged it around the head. Mimicking what he remembered Noct doing, curling his hand around what he couldn’t take in.

The noises he was making bypassed _anything_ Ignis could have dreamed up. _So_ receptive to touch, and the press of his tongue–

Noctis’s cock hit the back of his throat. He choked, stubbornly kept on even as he gagged, and tears spilled down over his cheeks. Noctis didn’t notice, or didn’t _care_ , and _didn’t_ apologize like Ignis had, before; he twisted his grip around him and readjusted his mouth until Noctis was gasping his name above him.

And then he made himself sit back, watching with more than a little interest as the prince’s cock twitched uselessly in his mouth’s absence.

“Ignis– _Ignis_ , what the hell–” Noct glared at him, although the effect was somewhat lessened by his flushed skin and those kissed pink lips, and his fangs, poking out over them.

That was incomprehensibly gorgeous. He pushed himself up, kicking his pants the rest of the way off, and stepped aside to grab the bottle of lube from the top of his bag.

“Nevermind, you can stay bent over like that,” Noct mumbled from behind him, and Ignis’s laugh was only slightly too high pitched from nerves.

“ _Charming_ , Noct,” he said, but he didn’t linger to let the prince gaze. Standing naked in the middle of the room felt too exposed, and he had other reasons to hasten back to bed anyway. “I… did my research,” he said, spreading a generous amount of the gel on his fingers. It was cold. Ah, so that was what Gladio had meant.

Noctis groaned, thumping his head back into the pillow. “God, don’t sound so _clinical._ ”

“I’ve been… informed that it may be too much, so if you need me to stop…”

“I won’t need you to, I can take it.”

“Noct,” he said sharply, pausing as he set the bottle aside.

“Okay, okay okay. Please, Iggy, just…”

Ignis leaned into silence his protests with his mouth, and to swallow Noctis’s cry of surprise when Ignis’s finger slipped down to circle his entrance. He didn’t stop him and Ignis, nerves and arousal a tight, tangled bundle in his stomach, grinned against his mouth. A power high. The prince of Lucis’s mouth against his while he was carefully edging a fingertip into his ass.

_“Fuck–”_ Noct thrust into the press of his index finger and whined against his mouth. “More, Iggy–”

_Quite_ the power high. Noctis’s claws in his shoulders and fangs scraping his mouth open and he barely felt the pain. When he was able to slip in a second, Noct bit him hard enough for him _to_ feel it. He lost track of which noise belonged to either of them, and they both had blood on their mouths when they broke apart.

“Fuck. _Fuck_.” Noct slumped back onto the pillows. He was practically _panting_. No small feat for a _vampire_.

A trickle of unease had Ignis’s fingers stalling. “Are you…?”

“No! I’m fine! Don’t stop!” he ordered, and his eyes flew open again. They were tinged with luminescent pink, vampire instincts running rampant.

And _Gods_ , but that was good. Ignis curved his fingers and pressed in. If his research was correct– done over and over again, meticulously, squinting at his phone in the dead of night when everyone else was asleep… it took a bit of exploring but he knew he’d found his prostate by his reaction a moment later; the look that crossed the prince’s face sent a rush of heat through Ignis that had him reaching down with his free hand to stroke his own cock in the next moment.

_“Ignis.”_

Somehow, he kept voice relatively steady. “Yes?” A facade.

“Please–” That sounded nice. The prince _begging_. It must have showed on his face, because Noctis continued, lower and harsher. _“Please._ Fuck me, _please_.”

Heavens.

“A moment.” Now his voice was considerably _less_ steady. He slipped his fingers free and fumbled for a condom. His hands were suddenly clumsy. Condoms seemed ludicrous and impossible.

“Forget that,” Noctis ordered, batting the condom right out of his hand.

“No.”

“Oh, you’re fine, _I’m_ fine. I want you like this _._ ”

Ignis looked at him for a long moment, and then picked up the packet again. “Not this time, Noct,” he said quietly, and caught the corner edge with his teeth to tear it open. Next time. Maybe next, or maybe not, but he knew he needed to do this by the book this time and he couldn’t deviate. He reached for the lube again. His fingers and his cock and Noctis’s entrance, and only then did he toss the bottle aside. “Are you _certain_ –”

Noct locked his legs around him. _“_ I _swear,_ if you ask me that one more time– _”_ he hissed, and whined when Ignis’s cock pressed up against him.

He bit back his own groan as he slowly slid into him, trying to take stock of every emotion on the prince’s face, looking for a signal of too much pain or– or anything, but that was made difficult by the arousal writ heavy on Noctis’s face, and the sensation of Noctis clenching around him.

“Relax,” he breathed, smoothing a hand down his chest. “I’ve got you.” His hand brushed back up, and curved around the base of his neck.

“I know, I… _God_ , you’re so _good_ to me–” His voice faltered a little, but as he pressed up into Ignis a moment later with a tentative roll of his hips, Ignis chalked it up as simply a _new_ sensation and not _too much_ sensation.

Noctis was far too good to him as well, although Ignis didn’t say as much. He didn’t want to, and didn’t need to, precisely, and so he slowly moved against him instead. He kept his eyes on his face, continuing to categorize every emotion he could see cross there, and reached down to take Noctis’s cock in his hand again.

Desire and pleasure, those were the things most predominant. A moment of discomfort, here, and there, immediately smoothed away by lips parting and eyes falling shut and pushing back into Ignis, whining his name beneath his breath. He was beautiful. He was _stunning_ , and Ignis was losing his rhythm, steady thrusts into him turning uneven and jerky as he lost himself in the look on the prince’s face.

He wouldn’t last long. That was fine. Noct wouldn’t, either. They both had the joy of being new to this world of sexual pleasure and thus, little time for experimentation. Or, perhaps, they were both as _easy_ as Ignis had once thought of himself before. In that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the look of bliss on the prince’s face, and the _devotion_ in his eyes as he looked back at him.

“Iggy–”

“I know,” Ignis interrupted. A long, stuttering stroke of his hand along his cock, and gripping Noctis’s hip to drive into him further. “I know. Please. Noct.” Noctis’s hips jerked back hard. “I’ve got you,” he repeated. “I love you. It’s okay–”

Noctis’s whimper worked into a cry; his hands scrabbled at Ignis as he came, and Ignis continued to unevenly work his cock throughout orgasm. Drawing the very last vestiges of pleasure from him, as he watched it all crash over his face and watched him as he went over, and Ignis was just as suddenly swept over as well. He cursed under his breath as he spilled himself into the prince, and wasn’t aware his eyes were closed until he reopened them.

Noctis was staring up at him with something like _reverence_. Ignis felt strangely humbled. And _satisfied_. Completely so, even.

“Are you alright?” he breathed, unclenching his hands from the blankets. “Was it…?” _Good?_ He didn’t know how to ask without sounding so crass.

Noctis nodded forcefully. “Hell yeah… It was– it was… you were…” He was still staring straight at him, and then there were tears collecting in his eyes, and then rolling down his cheeks. Ignis felt his stomach drop from the Royal Suite down to the very core of the earth itself.

“Noct.” Heart thudding painfully, and for wholly different reasons now, he braced both hands on the bed and pulled out as gently as he could. “Noctis.”

“Oh _God_ –” Noctis threw his hands over his eyes as his voice came out too close a sob. “Dammit–”

“Noct,” he repeated, crawling up next to him and then hesitating. Did he want him to touch him? Did he regret the whole thing? Ignis’s tongue was coated in uncertainty. “Are you… was it too much?” His hands hovered uselessly next to him, plagued with doubt again.

“No!” That was indubitably a sob. But Noctis threw his hands out, grabbing at him. “I loved it– it was… you were _so_ … good.” He swallowed. There were tears streaming freely down his face. “It was the best, this is embarrassing, God, I’m so sorry– it’s just–”

He was given leave to touch, at the very least. The panic was somewhat lessened. Ignis hummed a quiet note, curling up next to him. He pulled him against his chest. “Noct…”

“It was _great_ ,” Noctis ground out, burying his face against Ignis’s chest. He was _shaking_. “I love– I loved it. And you. And… there’s just… _so damn much_ –”

“Shhh.” He swept his hand over his shoulder to rub at his back.

_“Emotions–”_ Noct choked out. “I’m sorry–”

“Highness,” he breathed, nuzzling at his hair. “It’s _fine_ ,” he said sternly. Knowing he wasn’t crying because of the sex, not in that way, had taken the crushing weight from his chest as quickly as it had come. That choked comment about _emotions_ made even more sense.

“It’s just… these… these past few months,” Noctis whispered, hands seizing at Ignis’s biceps. His legs tangled with his. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He slipped his hand into his hair, and held him tighter. “Trust me. You do not need to, Noct. I understand,” he said quietly.

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _the process of releasing strong emotions through a particular activity or experience_
> 
>  
> 
> these boys are stressed but happy. so happy. I won't wax poetic on this but I have feelings alright


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's time for the story to move on...

“We can’t stay in bed all day, can we?”

“Hmm, I’m afraid not.”

Dawn had broken over Altissia, sunlight peeking in from behind the curtains. Ignis had woken first, which would be a surprise to no one under any circumstance at all, and he hadn’t planned on waking the prince.

Noct had more or less cried himself to sleep last night, after Ignis had cleaned him up and tucked him beneath the blankets. And, in between the tears, told Ignis how much he loved him and how grateful he was and reassured him in, almost every variation known to him, that the sex had been _good_. The very best moments of his life– although Ignis privately doubted _that._

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Emotional trauma had caused them to realize the extent of their feelings, after all; when their relationship culminated in the best of ways, all of that pent-up emotion would have come pouring out, too. Healing, in a way, Ignis supposed, and he had stroked Noctis’s hair until he had fallen asleep. He hoped it was, anyway.

But not long after Ignis had woken up, so too had the prince. Asides from last night, waking up at dawn with Noctis tucked into his side, both of them fully naked and warm from sleep, was… one of the best feelings he had ever experienced.

“I’ve never been so comfortable in my whole life,” Noctis murmured, head resting on Ignis’s shoulder. He stretched slightly and sighed, pressing a kiss to his bare skin.

“You’re certain I didn’t hurt you?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t still feel it anyway. It was a little strange, at first,” he admitted, “but it didn’t hurt. Not in a way I didn’t want to get used to.”

“I could have gone slower,” Ignis mused, and Noctis snorted against his skin. “What?”

“You went any slower, we would’ve been going backwards.” Ignis rolled his eyes, and Noctis continued. “Really, Specs, I… couldn’t ask for anything else. So, uh… yeah.”

He swept his fingers through the prince’s hair. “Thank you as well,” Ignis said. “I am…” How to express his gratitude? His love, he had already expressed that last night. But his _gratitude?_ “I am incredibly lucky.”

“Yeah right.”

“Really.”

“Well, _I’m_ incredibly lucky, too, then.” Noctis burrowed a little further into Ignis’s neck, and yawned. His breath was warm.

Ignis nuzzled at his hair, and pressed his lips into the midnight strands. “You need to drink?”

“Hmmm.”

“You can.” He urged Noctis’s face a little closer into the curve of his skin, and then tilted his head on the pillow. “Best before you meet Leviathan, tomorrow.”

Another vague noise against his neck, and no other warning before Noctis bit. The slide of fangs into his neck was no longer alarming. That in itself ought to have been disturbing enough, but Ignis didn’t care. It felt too _nice_. It allowed him to hold Noct closer and drop his head back on the pillow and relish a moment longer in the press of his bare skin against him.

His phone vibrating on the nightstand brought him out of his daze, and Noctis came off of his neck with a laugh. “They’re going to tear this place apart to find us, soon.”

“Yes… so it seems.” It had been alerting him to messages regularly since he’d awoken. All from Gladio, making various lewd remarks on where they were and what they must be doing. He slipped his glasses on and squinted at the letters on the screen. Noct was licking at the blood on his neck in long, languid strokes. It was hard to concentrate. “Ah, it’s Prompto now, even.”

Noctis swiped his phone from him before he could protest, and grinned as he read the message out loud. _“‘Noct won’t answer, so I just wanted you to know that we’ll be at Maagho if you need us.’_ Yeah, this is why I turned my phone off.”

“And yet, _some_ of us can’t do that.”

“Perks of being the prince.” The smile suddenly grew a little more sly, a little more _fanged_. He tapped into Ignis’s camera and held the phone back to center their faces in frame. “Say ‘fuzzy pickles.’”

“Noct,” he protested halfheartedly, but the picture had already been taken. Ignis watched as he slipped it into a text reply back to Prompto.

“ _‘Just got a drink of my own,’”_ Noct said aloud. “Signed by me, of course.”

He touched at the blood on his neck, but the prince shoved his hand away and went back to sucking at the remains with his mouth. “You’ll put them both off of their lunch,” Ignis said lightly, and sighed when Noctis’s teeth– not fangs– grazed against his skin.

“Nah, they’re cool.”

A hard suck to his skin, and then Noct pulled away when Ignis’s phone vibrated again. He let him go to read it, but was startled back into opening his eyes again when Noctis full body laughed a moment later.

“What is it?”

He angled the phone towards him.

**[Received] OMG is Iggy naked??**

Now he took the phone back, reaching over to deposit it back on the table. An exposed shoulder and collarbone would be his undoing.

“Like Gladio hasn’t told him what we’re up to.”

Precisely his thoughts, although he didn’t say. “Speaking of Prompto and Gladio,” he said instead, “we really ought to reconvene shortly. It is our last day before our efforts with Leviathan,” he said tentatively, and pretended he didn’t feel the tension roll into Noctis’s body.

“… yeah, I know.” Another press of his mouth to the wound on his neck. “Just a little longer, Specs.”

The promise of that had kept them in their makeshift royal bed up until now, but… they could be afforded it. For just a little longer. “Right,” he agreed, and slung a leg over Noctis’s.

 

“Come on, evacuation prep’s already started!”

Ignis raised a hand in acknowledgment, and looked at Noctis. “You’ll be careful.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, course.” There was a strange combination of emotion in the prince’s eyes. Hesitance and eagerness together, neck craning to look at the crowds starting to make their way to hear Lady Lunafreya’s speech.

Ignis was watching them, too, given he, Gladio, and Prompto were in charge of quickly removing them from the area after the speech had ended. He didn’t like the idea of splitting away from Noctis, especially having seen the might of the Astrals up close, but he also understood Secretary Claustra’s position. A duty to protect her people. They all understood that. Besides, the rite was something Noct had to do very much on his own, only with Lunafreya’s help in this regard. The three of them would prove nothing more than a distraction.

Still…

“Noct.”

Noctis’s head swiveled around, and his eyes met Ignis’s. He smiled ruefully. “Sorry, just… kinda nervous, I guess. About Luna. I’ll get the blessing, but… you know.”

“Indeed.” Even if Noct was nervous about the blessing– and Ignis was certain he was– he would never admit it. Worrying about Lunafreya was only natural, too. “Don’t let it get to you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.” Fingers, touching briefly at the long healed bite mark at his neck. The turning seemed so far off now. “It’ll go fine,” Noctis continued, and Ignis nodded.

“Exercise due caution.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No.”

Noct grinned, bright and quick. Then his attention was drawn inevitably back to the crowds. And then back to Ignis. “You be careful, too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“A short list, then,” Ignis murmured, and smiled faintly when the prince protested.

He was nervous, too, and he didn’t even have the difficult job. But Noctis could take care of himself, despite occasional jabs to the prior, and Ignis trusted in both his ability and his common sense. Things would be fine.

“Ignis!”

A glance over his shoulder. Gladiolus and Prompto were already clear down the path, and yet Ignis still lingered by the prince’s side. Their plan was sound. There was no reason to wait.

“Go, Specs. I gotta go, too.” Noct stretched up and pecked a kiss on his lips. There and gone. “Call me when you get them out of here, and I’ll go get Luna.”

“Right.” Ignis paused, and then, without thinking, as Noct turned away, grabbed his hand. “Be careful.”

“You said that once.” Noctis squeezed his fingers and pulled away. “Knock ‘em dead,” he said, and headed off into the crowd.

This time, Ignis didn’t linger to watch him go. Noctis had his part to play, and so did they. If any harm should befall the city’s inhabitants, they would have failed. Not to mention, Secretary Claustra had made it very clear that they were _not_ to do so. It was up to them to help in any way that they could.

Ignis strode after Gladio and Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a small reprieve, although can you blame me for putting off what we know's coming?
> 
> housekeeping notes: obviously upcoming events are what we see in Episode Ignis; however, this part in particular was written well in advance of the release of the dlc. some things have been edited to fit, some haven't given the nature of the au and personal direction here. it is intentional and hopefully everyone won't mind a slight deviation :3 asides from that, I won't go more in depth to avoid spoilers, but just food for thought!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hydrean.

Ignis jolted awake with a start.

Everything was water and noise; the earth was shaking beneath his body. He was drenched– no, drowning. No. There was water in his eyes and his ears and his mouth, but he was breathing. He dragged his head up, clutching at the piece of debris floating near him in the water. When he looked up, he could see not only Leviathan, but Titan, both engaged in battle.

“Noct…”

Water rushed up over him. Line of vision blocked. It rushed into his mouth. He inhaled on reflex and kicked back to the surface, coughing and retching. Lungs burning. He had to get to Noct.

The evacuation had gone effortlessly. The last thing he remembered was Prompto and Gladio on the bridge, the magitek engine coming at them. Leviathan rioting. He’d watched the buildings start to crumble, and then had become part of that statistic. The ground starting to fissure beneath his feet. For a heart stopping moment, he had thought he could get to safety. In a wholly _different_ heart-stopping moment, the structure had given away and he was falling.

What had happened during the in between didn’t matter. He was awake now, and Noctis needed their help. Whether it be by the empire or Leviathan refusing Oracle and king, both of them were in danger. They needed their help now more than ever.

Every eventuality planned for. So they had thought.

He pulled himself up on the fractured walkway and started running. His earpiece was still working. He took comfort in the fact that the others were okay, but his priority right now remained their king.

He couldn’t see a bloody thing with all of the destruction. He needed to go up, as had been his plan before. The hookshot he’d pilfered from one of the troopers… Hopefully it was still functional without its host. He shook his hair out of his face and squinted up, up through the sunlight and the smoke, and aimed for the ledge above. Held his breath, pushed the release…

He was suddenly very aware of what warping must be like to Noct, and he decided that he didn’t like it very much. He hit the ledge too hard, fumbling to catch a finger hold on the small details. The gloves, he realized, were going to have to go.

Still, he had hit his mark– even at a little too much velocity– and there was no time for practice. Ignis scrambled up onto the rooftop with shaky legs and tugged his gloves free as he ran.

Getting to the altar wasn’t going to be easy. Unlike with Noctis’s warping, he had a limit on how far the hookshot would stretch. There was too much water to cross. Maybe… a boat? A personal watercraft, nothing more, if any were still available or in working order… that would get him to Noct.

The Secretary could get him that. The final evacuation could rest with her men. He would only risk his own safety, and so he took off running. One rooftop to another. Each landing deviating from the last, pain waylaid only by adrenaline. The quickest way to the harbor, and the path of less resistance. There were soldiers on the ground, and if he could avoid them–

As though the fighting knew– _continued_ to know– his very line of thought, the last remains of a building’s facade went crashing past him. He narrowed avoided being flattened and managed to catch himself as he fell to swing the rest of the way down to the ground.

A fight it was, then.

It was strange to fight alone. He didn’t usually feel outmatched in any battle that they took anymore, save the more difficult hunts they had taken back in Lucis. He wasn’t sure if _outmatched_ was even the correct term _now_ , but there were more and more soldiers and… they kept coming. Out _numbered_. If he could just get to the boats…

He slammed a dagger into the elbow joint of the trooper’s armor and followed up with a cyclone of fire. He staggered when he landed again. Damn. His energy was already running low. He dug an ether free from his pack and tossed it back. Should he make a run for it? He didn’t like the idea of putting his back to the enemy, but this was wasting valuable time and that was something that Noct didn’t have. If he could just cut a path through these enemies…

The explosion of heat and light took him by surprise. Fire licking at his skin as he hit the ground from the force of the blast. A stark contrast to the water drying cold on his skin and contrast to–

– the hand closing around his wrist and hauling him back to his feet.

He lashed out with a dagger on instinct, pausing at the clash of metal on metal and then–

“Scientia.” A voice he recognized. “Join me. I can secure us a path to the king and Oracle.”

“Ravus?” He glanced over his shoulder, at the former prince at his back. They had heard that both Chancellor and High Commander were here in Altissia. It had just been a matter of time before they ran into one or the other, but he had to admit that he hadn’t expected Ravus to _help_ them when they had.

“I am going to the altar, with or without you. Will you follow?”

Uneasiness prickled at the back of his neck, at the water dripping down his spine and the sweat building in the small of his back. Ravus’s help would be immeasurable in clearing the distance to Noctis and Lunafreya. But… “Why should I trust you?” he asked bluntly, flexing his fingers around his blades. “Not long ago, you were willing to kill Noctis yourself.”

Ravus’s shoulders pressed back against his. “Do you have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.”

It sounded as though Ravus drew his blade. Ignis didn’t take his eyes off the imperial officers to look. “Perhaps. I have made mine. Will you follow?” he repeated.

He wasn’t certain he could trust him. The animosity between the former prince of Tenebrae and the current prince of Lucis ran too deeply, and wouldn’t be cured by the Hydraean’s attack on Altissia. That being said… Lunafreya was here, and she was in danger. Above all else, Ravus worried most for his sister. If protecting his sister meant protecting the king as well now, Ignis believed Ravus to actually be telling the truth. He might actually be willing to help, for now.

Agreeing was in his best interests– in _Noctis’s_ and Luna’s best interests. He didn’t necessarily trust him in his entirety, but he could and would trust him enough to get them both to the altar. “… We need a boat.”

“I assumed.”

Without another word, Ravus lunged forward and into the throng of soldiers. Ignis cast off a series of fireballs and did the same. Together, they were able to clear a path between the army and the dock. Ravus sent him ahead first and Ignis went without arguing, slipping along the harbor as he looked for a boat. If only one of them was intact…   

 _There._ Ignis vaulted over the railing and finally dismissed his blades. He’d need a potion and another ether on the way over. Using too many too fast would negate the purpose, but there wasn’t time to _stop_ –

The keys were in the ignition. The engine roared to life on the second try. He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking so badly until he had tried to grab at the keys. “Ravus!” he yelled. “Now!”

He’d been watching, as much as he could between fighting his way along himself, watching as Ravus fought. With fire and ferocity… and like a man with nothing left to lose. It did assist to make the enemies fall, and yet Ignis wasn’t surprised when Ravus didn’t look up and yelled back instead.

“Go! I will join you there!”

Ignis smoothed his hands against the steering wheel, and hesitated. The elder Fleuret was more than capable, he knew, but… leaving him behind put a taste in his mouth that he didn’t want to deal with. _“Ravus!”_

“Go!” Ravus repeated, head whipping around. Even at this distance, the glare was unmistakable. “Protect your king! And my sister,” he added, “if you find her before me. Please.”

“You don’t get to do that!” Ignis fired back. The earth trembled, and the boat rocked dangerously on the waves. He gripped onto it and tried to breathe. “You don’t get to be the sacrifice today! Lunafreya will need your strength now more than ever and I can’t guarantee I can get both of them out alive!”

Ravus was close enough, now, to see the _indecision_ on his face. “I…”

The boat crashed sideways into the dock, and nearly knocked Ignis over the side. “Get in the bloody boat!” he demanded, and to the former prince’s credit, only paused for a moment longer before sprinting to join him.

“Take over this,” he ordered, gesturing Ravus up to the wheel. “Please.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m injured,” he retorted, and was already pulling a potion out. Ravus took over the controls wordlessly, and Ignis braced a hip against the boat as he swallowed a mouthful. “Gladio, do you copy?” Nothing. Ignis pressed the earpiece further into his ear, and tapped at it. “Gladio.”

_“ –nis… –to and I… to the altar– you?”_

He took a deep breath and looked at the empire’s fleet overhead. In the distance, Titan was still in combat. He was batting away the engines like they were flies. “Listen,” he said into the phone. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but just listen. Meet me at the altar if you can. I’ll be there shortly. If Noct or the empire do not subdue Leviathan, we’ll need to step in ourselves. I’m fine,” he added as an afterthought, as he unbuckled the clawshot from his arm. He wouldn’t need it here. Everything was in shambles where they were headed, and he would need both hands for Noctis. “Keep yourselves safe.”

_“ – too–”_

There was no time to dwell on if the whole message had gotten through, but he prayed that it had. They would know to get to Noct regardless, but it was reassuring to hear his voice. “If we don’t see each other at the altar, we’ll reconvene at our rendezvous point.” The crackle of static was the only response, and Ignis groaned. _Reassuring to hear his voice,_ he reminded himself, and drank the rest of his potion. “These ships… are they Ardyn’s doing? Or _yours?_ ” he asked, addressing the man on the boat.

Ravus narrowed his eyes, looking up at the fleet as Ignis stepped back in to take the wheel. “I cannot stand by and allow this operation to threaten her any longer.”

That didn’t answer his question. “A crisis of conscience?” Ignis’s voice came out brisk. It wasn’t unfair. Their last meeting with Ravus had not been a positive one, but he had to remain optimistic. He believed people could change. He believed it now more than ever, and he also knew quite a bit about doing what it took to protect the ones you loved. “We’ll find them both,” he said, and made a conscious effort to soften his tone.

“… Yes.”

“The story cannot end here.” He said it more to himself. Noctis was the one destined to dispel the darkness from their world. More than that, he had told Ignis that everything would be fine and Ignis had returned the sentiment. They had to make it so.

“… No,” Ravus agreed, after a beat of silence too long.

Ignis didn’t ask. He didn’t get the chance to, even if he had wanted; up ahead, there was activity so loud Ignis nearly wanted to throw his hands up over his ears. And then, watching… Titan started to fall. He would rise again momentarily, but Ignis still cringed when the god’s body hit the surface of the water. The encroaching tidal wave gave him no time at all to think and, for the second time, he was dragged underneath water so deep and fast he was choking when he broke the surface again.

His limbs were heavy. He couldn’t move. The water tossed him like he was weightless and then his body hit something sturdy. A column, a pillar. Whatever it had once been, it was no longer. But it gave him a way to painstakingly claw his way back to his feet and look for his erstwhile companion.

Ravus was gone.

Part of him wanted to stop and search, and the part that was more concerned with Noctis’s safety rallied against it. Ravus, if he was safe, would make his way to the altar, anyway. They were so close. He couldn’t pause, even if he wanted to.

(A very large part of him wanted to. Wanted to sit down and _rest_ . He was bruised, battered. He’d nearly drowned twice. His lungs were screaming, his body was aching. He was bleeding and his legs felt heavy. He was watching a city be torn apart firsthand. He wondered if Insomnia had looked like this. He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know if Prompto was safe, and there was no guarantee Gladiolus would be, either. He was _tired_.)

(But he kept going. Noctis was waiting. There would be time for rest afterwards. He had to see Noctis to safety, and then he would be able to sit down.)

The altar was destroyed. He went clambering over wet rock and broken rites, nearly pitching right off into the water surrounding them. Where was Noct? Ignis refused to believe the gods would let their Chosen King die. He _refused_ –

Pale skin against the dark backdrop. There! Tangled hair and crumbled debris.  He appeared to be unconscious. Ignis took off at a run to clear the distance between them. He refused to believe the gods would let him die. He refused to believe the gods would let their Chosen King die. He refused to believe–

“Noct!” He grabbed at his shoulder, habit prompting him not to move him in case of serious injury. He started clawing the rubble away from him. “Highness!” No response. His fingers were clammy as he felt for his pulse. He _refused–_ there. Ignis’s breath rushed out. He collapsed onto both knees, and kept digging Noct’s body from the debris.

It was almost over.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Noct.” He was certain he couldn’t hear him, but he felt the need to speak the words, anyway. “You can– rest now.”

He had to pause, once he had freed him from the rubble. His lungs were _screaming_. His heart was in overdrive. The empire was still here, but he _had_ to take a moment. Just one. So he swept the prince’s hair out of his face and again felt for a pulse and tried to match his breathing to Noctis’s. Slow and deep, for a moment that felt far too long and fraught with danger.

When he was able to breathe without feeling the fear of choking on fire and all of the destruction, Ignis leaned over to press his lips, very gently, to Noctis’s forehead. He would find somewhere more secure, and try to contact Gladio. For now… “I’ve got you, Noct,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm look at that good altering of canon *jazzhands* excuse the pacing if it's a bit off... tbf there isn't TOO MUCH that goes on in Episode Ignis prior to ch3 asides fighting... *strokes chin* anyway
> 
> So I've been binging Comrades... I have never played before so I'm like PRAYER EMOJI but listen if you guys play hmu on Twitter so we can play or share together!! @WalkTallFriends


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _novissime acutam_

The earpiece was no longer working. Likely their friends were fighting their own battles, anyway, and they had set up a rendezvous point for a reason, but it still made Ignis’s stomach turn. He needed to get away from this broken altar, get Noct to safety, he thought, smoothing his hand against his hair and casting a lingering glance at his unconscious prince.

He’d barely found the strength to get to his feet before movement came staggering over the rocks; he nearly attacked on instinct again before he recognized the long white coat, dirty and wet and _bloody_ now. “Bloody hell, Ravus–”

The words died on his tongue when Ravus turned around, and Ignis recognized the small, pale figure in his arms.

“Lady Lunafreya…”

Her hair was draped in her face. Her dress was stained red, too. The source of the blood on Ravus’s coat. Her head lolled back before Ravus caught it in the crook of his arm, and the expression on his face was blank. Carefully so, even.

Bile rushed up to coat his tongue. The dread beckoned it, and Ignis tightened his grip around the unconscious prince’s waist and looked at the small, motionless body in the high commander’s arms. He didn’t want to ask. He knew the answer. His voice came out small when he did. “Is she…?”

Ravus shook his head, once, and _very_ slightly.

“Oh.”

His mind had gone blank. He could think of nothing except Luna’s lifeless body in front of them, think of how excited Noctis had been to see her again, how much he’d been hoping to protect her ever since she had started to undertake the rites. How _selfishly_ he himself had been worrying over the state of his and Noctis’s relationship when Lunafreya was still his betrothed–

“I’m sorry,” he said numbly. He didn’t recall making the decision to form the words. How many more would die before they were able to stop the empire? How many more people would Noctis have to _lose_ –

“She promised to fulfill her duty.” Ravus’s voice was just as flat. His eyes, however, spoke a different story. A storm was brewing beneath violet and ice. A nod towards Noctis. “The king lives.”

Ignis looked at Noctis numbly. He would have to tell him. Or perhaps he had witnessed it himself.

… he should have been there. He would gladly take whatever ills if it meant that Noctis needn’t suffer another death of his most cherished companions.

“Then it is not _all_ in vain,” Ravus continued, and Ignis looked back at him. The former prince slowly– and impossibly gentle, the man with all of his hawk-like presence and loyalties branded in the design on his arm– lowered his sister to the ground. He brushed her hair out of her face and lingered, as though he had forgotten Ignis was there.

Ignis turned his head. They would all need privacy after this latest tragedy. They would all need time to grieve, _again._ He completed his circuit of getting his feet up underneath him, and paced a few steps away to try and get Gladio, Prompto, _anyone_ , on the bluetooth again.

While Ravus may have lingered with his sister, his footfalls resumed a moment later, and Ignis glanced up from tapping out a text to watch the former prince walk over to Noctis. He tensed for only a moment. Whatever distrust he had had regarding Ravus had gone. The death of his sister– the sole person he had wanted to protect, leading to their uncertain companionship in the first place– would have already broken the man beyond repair, and Ignis wasn’t so naive to think otherwise. He might not ever see the consequences of it, but her death would hit him just as hard as it would hit Noctis, and harder.

“… I do not often regret my choices.” Ravus crouched down next to Noctis. “But you were a mistake that I shouldn’t have made.”

Ignis frowned.

“You will give your king my apologies,” Ravus said, raising his voice. He was talking to Ignis again, although the non-sequitur made as much sense as his previous statement.

“I’m certain Noct wouldn’t hold it against you,” he said shortly. “You both wanted to protect Lady Lunafreya. Surely he understands that.”

“… Yes.” Ravus drew his wrist to his mouth. “But that is not the issue in question.” When he moved his hand away, there was blood rolling down his arm and fangs pressing out over his lip.

Ignis jolted forward as Ravus pressed his wrist to Noctis’s mouth. The former prince was a vampire? And then he stopped, pulled to a standstill as though something had physically slammed against his chest and was holding him back. Ravus’s words had filtered through the shock and pain slowly, but now they came crashing back in all at once, rattling in his skull so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else.

_You were a mistake that I shouldn’t have made._

He was a vampire.

 _Ravus_ had been the one to turn Noctis that night in Insomnia.

“Get back,” he ordered, and his blades sprung to aching hands on reflex. He was acting purely on reflex, no time to think, shock giving way to anger and chasing the remnants of the numbness away. “Get away from him.”

“You know as well as I that his sire’s blood will help him _far_ more than any familiar’s.”

 _Sire_. _Ravus_. Had Lunafreya known? Had Noctis remembered? He could recall that night at the imperial base, when they had taken back the Regalia. Ravus had shown up then, and Noctis had been… ill. Aching. He remembered how Ravus had _looked_ at him and Noctis had flinched. He’d been under the effect of his sire’s presence, and none of them had even realized it.

Ignis clenched his hands around the daggers, and then clenched them into fists when he let his weapons fall. It was true that sires could help (or hurt) their fledglings. Ignis wasn’t certain he could swallow back the growing ball of anger deep in the pit of his stomach, but Ravus _was_ helping. He had been helping the entire time, and nothing about his posture or demeanor gave off any warning signs.

He was suddenly back to not trusting him, but for entirely different reasons that he hadn’t _ever_ expected to have to work through.

 _“Why?”_ he demanded instead, and felt the anger shake his bones. Just a little. He tried to reign it in. They had _no time_ for it.

“It served to further weaken the king. King Regis, at the time,” Ravus clarified, a hand slipping into Noctis’s hair to hold his head.

“It weakened _Noct_ ,” he fired back. He tried to focus on the bite of four points of pain in his palm as his nails pressed into his skin. “Perhaps you granted him invulnerability and longevity, but you took away his _peace of mind!”_

Ravus said nothing. Ignis wished Noct was awake to yell at him himself. Or… react how he saw fit. _Ignis_ wasn’t the one who had been turned. It wasn’t his right to react and _yet–_

He closed his eyes briefly and tried again. “Was this an order by Emperor Aldercapt? Or the Chancellor?” Perhaps it had been, a way to further weaken Regis’s spirit before the attack on Insomnia.

“Not… precisely.”

 _Bloody_ hell. Ignis sucked in a sharp breath.

Ravus pulled away, slowing pushing himself to his feet. “Your anger does not do him aid,” he said, and before Ignis could continue– just as well, that– said “He appears to be in shock, but he will live. I… believe.”

… He had to focus on Noct. He _had_ to focus on him right now, get him to safety and reconvene with the others and _then_ get answers. He had to move on. They couldn’t dawdle here. “You _believe?”_

“He is in his own mind. What he finds there, he must battle on his own.” Ravus’s eyes fell back on Luna, and softened infinitesimally. He started back over to his sister. “He will decide if he can go on from here. Take him and go.”

“What about you?” Ignis asked. “You need to tell him.”

“I cannot.”

“He’s _your_ fledgling! By blooding him, you were meant to take on the responsibility. You need to tell him,” he repeated, but Ravus interrupted before he could go on.

“Would he rather hear it from me, or from the human familiar he’s bedding?”

Ignis glared, lacking any proper emotional availability to be embarrassed.

“You have taken care of him thus far,” Ravus continued. “I would be no match. Tell him, or tell him nothing at all. It is your decision. I must–” He stopped, cocked his head.

Ignis wasn’t certain what kind of fear it was that propelled him back to Noctis’s side, but he went nonetheless. “What it is?”

Ravus said nothing, but Ignis heard for himself a moment later.

A familiar voice. “Iggy!”

His heart jumped. “Gladio!” he exclaimed, and felt weak-kneed for the second time in less than ten minutes as the man came into view. He was safe, _too._ Thank the Six– “Where’s Prompto??”

Gladio opened his mouth to respond, and the noticed Ravus, still knelt between Lunafreya’s body and Noctis’s. “Well, well… what have we here.”

 _Now is_ not _the time,_ Ignis was about to say, ready to put his foot down because _whatever_ he was about to say could wait until far later, when his own head wasn’t still _reeling–_

– but Ravus’s head snapped up, lips pulling back in a fanged snarl. “You– _Ardyn.”_

Ignis stopped. His hand closed around Noctis’s arm.

“Oh dear,” Gladio murmured, and it _wasn’t Gladio_ at all, he realized with a start. Ice down his veins again, as figures changed and Ravus was _right._ “Was I that transparent?”

The blow to the back of his head was sharp and strong; mostly, though, it was unexpected. Ignis went crashing forward, losing his grip on the prince. The soldiers rushed at him, rifles pointed in his face and side and a hand slamming his head into the ground. Through the throng of legs and armor, he caught sight of Noctis’s body, a few feet away. And then, even less distance from him…

_The Ring of the Lucii?_

Ignis stared. Only for a moment, swallowing as he dragged his gaze up to Ardyn. He mustn’t draw attention to the ring, if the Chancellor hadn’t already known that Lunafreya had managed to pass it off before she had perished. Likely, he had. Likely, he knew it was here, a speck of an object near camouflaged on the ground, because Ardyn seemed to _always_ know. But Ignis refused to make it easier for him, and met the man’s gaze with a glare, even after he turned back from sending the commander flying across rocks and rubble, and into the murky water beyond them.

“What good is a world that always lets you down?” Ardyn asked, brushing off his coat. “So close to your rendezvous point, and so far! The prince might be dying, and you’re useless to help him.”

Ignis forced himself to breathe, to not look away, as he ran through a list of possibilities in his head. Trained as he was in tactical approach, he saw no way out of this without help from the outside. _Outside_ meaning…

“Ah, you’re thinking he isn’t dying, because our favorite commander gave him his blood!” So he had known about that, too. Ignis failed to be surprised any longer. “But he could be, anyway. You never know.”

Bargaining would also get him nowhere. There was no bargaining to be had with Ardyn to begin with. It was a poor option as well, no matter the adversary.

“Eventually, if no one finds him,” Ardyn said, and when he pointed at Noct, there was purpled magic at his fingertips. Ignis tensed. How could he be doing that? “He’ll starve. Or drown!” He breathed in sharply, eyes widening. “So would you! How _terrible_ that would be. But, I can offer you a choice. Rather than follow this flotsam and float away to a watery grave… why not come with _me?_ What do you say? _I_ would never let you down… Ignis.”

He sincerely doubted that. And if Ardyn for one moment expected that Ignis would choose anything other than to remain at Noctis’s side–

He knew he had a split second decision to make.

It wasn’t a decision at all, really.

He fought his way back to his feet, and, in doing so, clasped one hand over the ring and curled it into his palm as he stood.

He knew the risks. He had watched firsthand as the ring had taken its toll on Regis. Sometimes, he had been far more aware of it than even Noctis had been. It was a fascinating thing, the line of Lucis, but their power and secrets were also… terrifying. That didn’t mean he hadn’t done his research. He had. Extensively. One day, his charge would take those secrets and that power and that responsibility, slip it onto his finger, and _reign_.

He hadn’t expected that day to come nearly so soon. Regardless, he knew that the ring was meant for those who bore the Lucis bloodline, and, perhaps, a select few deemed worthy. Ignis wouldn’t be so brash to believe he was anything of the sort, but if the old kings could lend their help if only for a _moment_ …

He knew the risks. The potential reward was greater. Saving the Chosen King’s life. Saving the life of the man he loved.

Saying _I love you_ had never been asinine, but Ignis suddenly wished that he had said it even more in the short time they had been given.

No regrets. It would keep Noctis safe. That was all that mattered. It was _everything_ that mattered.

 _Forgive me._ Further words left unspoken.

He lifted his gaze from the world laid out at his feet, and met Ardyn’s gaze. His palms were clammy. The worst kind of feeling was clawing at his insides, self preservation lashing out in its last ditch attempts to _stay alive_. He ignored it. He had to keep _Noctis_ alive. That was all that mattered. “I swore an oath… to stand with Noct and keep him safe.” No regrets. Someone else would take care of him. Someone else would love him. One day, the Chosen would be able to live happy and free. He would make certain of it. His heart hammered against his chest, and his eyes were stinging. “Whatever it takes–” His voice was steady. There was peace in that in itself. “– I _will_ protect him!”

Before resolution could fail him, he forced the ring onto his finger.

His gaze fell back on Noct, and he desperately tried to catalogue details he would never see again. Let death be swift and merciful, and let part of his heart keep beating within the king himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chinhands
> 
>  ~~the downfall of singular pov is that some of the story goes left unsaid—~~  
>  sobs


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old kings.

Nothing changed.

Except it _had_ , upon closer inspection; again, the world had frozen and so too had everyone within in. Ardyn was motionless a few feet ahead, Noct was motionless curled on the ground below. Ignis fell to bended knee to feel for the prince’s pulse, useless in this suspended state of time, and then a voice from above spoke. When he jerked his eyes up, he was met with the… forms of the old kings themselves. It was daunting. It was damning. And the strangest sense of calm washed over Ignis then, looking up at the ephemeral forms he should have never seen in his life. He had been granted audience. They were willing to listen. They were willing to help. Noctis would be fine, and he felt nearly weak with relief.

He didn’t let it show. “Thank you for–”

_“You seek power.”_

That was a question with a yes and no answer. “I seek assistance,” he settled on, and bowed his head to the spirits. “I–”

_“We are not mankind’s servants. We do not exist to solve your problems.”_

“No, I–” Ignis frowned. He hadn’t been certain what to expect, and he hadn’t been given any time to think about it. He expected… not to be so brusquely– quickly– pushed aside. They were speaking of the _Chosen King_. Surely that meant something to them. “I am here as proxy for the Chosen King, Noc–”

_“These are not our ills,”_ the voice interrupted. _“You are not the Chosen King.”_

“He is unable to–”

_“You have been searched and found wanting. You are not worthy to speak for the line of Lucis.”_

“I bloody well know that!” he interrupted, and then his breath caught in his throat. He felt the blood drain from his face. Years and years of grooming on how to speak to the king of Lucis, to behave and associate, gone in the face of heart-wrenching _emotion_. He took a deep breath, and continued. “I just wish to have Noctis protected. It has been my duty for the majority of my life. I only wish to assure his safety, nothing more.”

_“What he says is true.”_

Ignis stiffened. He knew that voice, a voice familiar from the many days and years of his life spent at the Citadel with Noct and his own Uncle. “King Regis…”

_“Listen to what he speaks.”_

_“This is becoming tiresome, Father of the Chosen.”_

It was suddenly somehow more daunting talking to _him_ , than talking to all of the old kings combined. That had been daunting enough on its own, but… Regis likely knew the extent of his son’s relationship with Ignis. Or perhaps not. They were kings, not gods. Still, the nagging sensation that he was being scrutinized even moreso made words falter on his tongue.

But he had to speak. He swallowed and lifted his chin.

“I do not ask for your power. I understand it belongs solely to the line of Lucis and it is _not_ in my desire to take it. I only ask for… your assistance to get Noct out of Chancellor Izunia’s hands, out of the empire’s hands. They know about his condition and even if he were to survive this, they would likely use it against him. He is the king destined to banish darkness from this world; abandoning him now would be abandoning everything that any king of Lucis has been waiting for.”

_“And what if we do not wait for it?”_

“I…” He took a breath. “Regardless, it is your duty, is it not?”

_“You speak of duty?”_

“I do,” he replied shortly. “I may not know much else in my life, but I like to think I know that. And I know that Noct will become the king you have been waiting for. The one the historians tell stories about. But he needs more time. This _cannot_ end here for him. Above all else, Noctis _must_ go on.”

The silence echoed when he had finished speaking. The forms of the past kings were motionless, translucent over the landscape of a city frozen in time. Imperial soldiers waited for Ignis’s return to the correct continuum. So did Ardyn. Ignis clenched his hands into fists, and waited for a reply. He hadn’t expected them to be pleased for him to have put on the ring, but he hadn’t expected such resistance. He had spoken his mind. The rest was up to them.

Barring all else, he would get on his knees and beg if he needed. He was already offering up everything he had. He had nothing left to lose, save Noctis himself.

_“There is a price.”_

He didn’t know he was holding his breath. His lungs ached after he exhaled. “I will pay it.”

_“You have not yet heard it.”_

“It doesn’t matter.”

_“Foolish boy.”_

“Maybe.” He looked down at Noctis’s body in the suspended realm. “I prefer the term ‘loyal’, though.”

_“Stupidity is not loyalty.”_

“I joined the Crownsguard,” he said. “I may not have been born for him, but I agreed to die for him.” _And I wouldn’t have it any other way._ “Whatever the price is, it is worth _far_ less than the cost of his life.”

Another long silence. Ignis’s nerves were pulled so tightly, they felt ready to snap. He was wound so high, he wasn’t certain he’d survive the fall of the response sure to be coming. He wouldn’t survive either way. Words were words, and they were _true_ , but accepting death was… _much_ more difficult than he had anticipated.

He would be leaving Noct behind. He would be hurting him again– Lunafreya and his own death, all in one day. But… Noct would be alive. That thought alone forced him to swallow the lump in his throat and still the tremor in his legs.

He would be able to see his mother, and his uncle, and King Regis properly again. No more pain, no more heartbreak. No more anything. He wasn’t certain if he deserved the peace, but at least he would still be able to watch over Noct in the afterlife. If such a thing were possible, that was.

_“Your clarity will be rewarded.”_

Ignis tried not to physically droop. It was relief and terror mixed into one, but he didn’t regret it. Not for one second. “Thank you, Majes–”

_“You alone will pay the price.”_

“Yes,” he agreed. His voice didn’t shake.

_“It is done. We will lend our power, Ignis Scientia, to save your Chosen King.”_

The forms of the old kings dissolved into mist, to shadows and fog. Swirling in the sky and then swooping towards him– or the ring, he wasn’t certain. He threw his arm up over his eyes as the wind buffeted his face, and the sound of the real world came filtering back in. It was water and wind and cracking in the distance. The chancellor, waiting, and something building _inside_ of Ignis, percolating beneath his skin, skittering across it with a thrum of power he had come to recognize within the armiger but _so_ much more–

He didn’t even make it the few steps between himself and the chancellor before that _something_ reached a crescendo. _Power. Pain._ Pain so intense he couldn’t help but cry out, staggering forward a half step more before he was forced down to hands and knees. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He… hadn’t expected this to be merciful, and there were still tears streaming down his face and he hadn’t done _anything_ yet.

And Noctis… he needed to… he needed…

… one more moment. One more look. One more touch. He needed him by his side like he had needed since he had turned six and been ushered into audience with the king, practiced and complicated lines rehearsed in his head. _I humbly request permission to take up position as the prince of Lucis’s chamberlain._ He needed to be there like he had since childhood, since swearing his life to Noctis first as a child who had barely understood and then as a member of Crownsguard, ready to do what he must to protect the man he had fallen in love with. He just needed… He _wanted_ to be selfish, just for one last moment–

The hand he reached out to Noctis wasn’t stained with tears, but blood. Ignis looked at it blankly. And the splotch of blood turned to a speck of black, and another, larger, and another– darkness sweeping over his vision, blocking out his one last moment of looking at the prince’s face–

It hurt like hell. And then it didn’t.

It just… _was._ And it was strong, and pulsing through his veins, ready to burst forth from his very soul to take up the task he had been granted, ignore his own selfishness and _protect the prince of Lucis._

He wasn’t certain what happened next.

One moment, he was standing, the weight of the ring on his finger and positively _brimming_ with strength he had never known. The next, Ardyn had gone, and Ignis was on his knees in a shallow pool of water and blood, and he felt… empty.

There was a noise. Soft, and quick, like air escaping– breathing, too quickly. The sound of inhaling and exhaling, but with a hitch… rasping. Sobs?

Ignis startled when he realized the noise was _himself_. He was very much still alive. There really were rocks and water beneath his hands and knees. He could hear himself breathing. He opened his eyes. There was nothing. Were his eyes open? They had to be. He felt for his body, the ring, Noctis’s form where it had been a moment prior. He hit a sleeve, and then skin, and crawled forward the rest of the way. Was he dreaming? _Was_ he dead?

No, Noctis wouldn’t be here if he was. Noctis was alive, the faint pulse of his heartbeat beneath Ignis’s shaking fingers. Bloodied fingers. He raised those fingers to his face. Hot, wet, sticky. Blood. Fingers to his eye. The pass of eyelashes against fingertips as he blinked. He blinked, and the world remained dark.

He couldn’t see. He was, as far as he could tell, alive. Noctis was alive. But his own sight… was this… was _this_ the price…?

Another noise. Himself again. Hard and shaking breaths, wet and watery and _terrified_. On the verge of hyperventilation, his lungs screaming at him and his heart racing in terror. Ignis clapped both hands over his mouth. He forced air in through his nose in short, sharp bursts. The best he could do. His body hunched over, curling over Noctis’s. He struggled to– to– come to terms with what the situation had become.

He had expected death. He had been granted a lack of sight instead.

He didn’t have time to sit there, body rebelling against itself. He needed to move. Noct was safe, but for how long? What about the others? What about the city? He couldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

His breath caught on a sob. He ignored it, choked his way into the next gust of air, and kept his face muffled in his hands.

It felt like forever, although it was probably no time at all before he could pull his phone from his pocket. He swallowed, and panicked over not seeing the display until he remember the AI installed. When he asked it to call Gladiolus, it robotically complied.

_“Iggy! Are you alright?! Do you have Noct?!”_

He very nearly retched on another breath of air, and the sheer panic in Gladio’s voice. _Focus_. “We’ll need some help getting back. He’s unconscious.”

_“He’s alive, though?”_

“Yes. L–” Oh Gods, get him the strength to get through this phone call. “Lady Lunafreya has passed.”

_“… shit…_ Fuck _, where are you? The altar, still? Prompto and I’ll come to you.”_

Good, Ignis didn’t say. He gave the affirmative instead, and forced himself to breathe in again. He had to focus. He had to keep breathing. He had to– and would– adjust.

_“We’re on our way. You’re good, right? We haven’t managed to run into anything we couldn’t handle on our end.”_

“Likewise,” Ignis murmured. The ring was still on his finger. He sandwiched the phone between his shoulder and ear and fumbled in clawing it off. He wouldn’t tell them it had been the old kings. He wouldn’t tell them it had been his decision. He, especially, wouldn’t tell Noctis.

He had just folded it back into Noctis’s hand when Gladio spoke again. _“Ignis. You aren’t answering the question.”_ So he had noticed. _“Are_ you _okay?”_

“I…” He swallowed. He was. He was in pain, and he was… blind, and likely in shock for it, to boot. But… he wasn’t dead. Compared to that, this was… nothing. “I’ll be fine.”

_“What the hell does_ that _mean? Iggy!”_

His fingers seized around the phone. “… Hurry, Gladio,” he said instead, and put his phone down in the rubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~they had the fight but we know how it goes so I didn't write it out. plus you know what ignis is in hella shock he ain't gonna remember much of this~~
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~I think one of my fav things I've written is one of the old kings called Ignis _foolish boy_ lmao meanwhile you know Regis is like bless the six my son has a beautiful strong loving boyfriend who would do anything to protect him


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> disability・ _a physical or mental condition that limits a person's movements, senses, or activities_

His alarm went off like clockwork.

While it was still beeping, rhythmically, from the bedside table, things were normal. He was in the hotel, Noctis was curled up against his back, Prompto and Gladio were sprawled across their own bed. The aches and pains were gone from his body, there wasn’t gauze wrapped securely around his eye and face and head, Altissia wasn’t rebuilding outside of his window.

But then he opened his eyes, and all was darkness, and things were as far from normal as they could be.

Ignis took a deep breath and gingerly rolled over on his side to feel for his phone, and try to find the dismiss for the alarm by reflex rather than sight. It stopped blaring a second later. He must have found it. Considerably less difficult than he had expected. Right. Time to get on. He needed to get to Noctis.

He hadn’t been in much of a position to argue against their separation last night. Noctis had been unconscious, and had stayed unconscious, and Ignis had been losing his own battle to stay awake as the day’s events had taken him over. The darkness behind his eyelids had made him even less capable of resisting sleep. He’d dozed off sitting up as the doctors had tended him, and barely remembered his head hitting the pillow.

He did remember them saying it was a _wait and see_ sort of situation with his eyesight. He had known the truth, but he didn’t correct them. They wouldn’t understand, anyway.

Fingertips brushed at the gauze, and then set to work at unraveling it. The wounds would heal, and were already. They barely hurt. The offending one that was, evidently, spanning across his left eye still did, sore and aching, but it was less the piercing pain when the kings had bestowed their promise upon him. There was a bandage across his nose, which he also peeled free, and his lower lip was swollen and painful to touch. Little injuries he hadn’t known he had. He wondered if that was part of the payment, or if those were… just injuries of the battle.

Thinking on that, Ignis realized there was no inspecting himself in the mirror this time. He set the bandages aside, and raised his fingers to the wound on his eye. It _did_ hurt to touch. … Interesting. He swallowed and carefully traced his fingers along the ragged edges of it. Down to his cheekbone, tiny nicks in his skin beneath the actual wound. Along the bridge of his nose, the scar that would linger there. Up past his eyebrow, jagged edges reaching up and falling down and tracing back into an uneven line at the start.

Finding injuries on the rest of his body wasn’t difficult, either. He quickly realized, with a few experimental stretches and sweeping his hand down his chest, along his arms, over ribs and over his thighs, he had not only been gifted with the lack of sight and the ghastly scar there, but marks that would linger over the rest of his body. A criss-cross muddle of wounds along his left pectoral, some superficial, some deep and as wide as two fingers. Smaller injuries littering his skin after he had carefully pulled his shirt up over his head and continued to explore his own torso. Most– if not all– would scar, he imagined.

He swallowed again, and licked his lips. It made the gash there sting.

Maybe it was best he couldn’t see.

_Noctis_ would be able to, though, when he woke up and felt like facing the world. Perhaps he would be able to hide the rest of his body, but there was no masking the wounds on his face. His throat felt tight. He took a deep breath. It fell short.

It was only just then he realized not only would he not see himself, he wouldn’t be able to see _Noct_. Ever, at all. Never again. He had accepted the bargain expecting to never see him again in the sense that he himself would be _gone_ , not that he would still be alive and within Noctis’s reach. Perhaps it was a cruel trick, this blindness.

He tried to recall those last few moments of looking at Noctis, before his sight had been taken away, but they were already blurred by pain and disorientation. It didn’t matter; he remembered Noctis in great detail. He had spent a lifetime watching him. He had spent the past few months memorizing every detail, studying his body and mind and soul in ways he had never expected. He could remember his hair, splayed dark and messy against cream colored pillowcases. He could remember his eyes, sapphire or rose quartz or the deepest, darkest onyx. Recently paled skin and sharpened nails and fangs so white it never failed to shock Ignis in some sort of way.

He could _remember_ , and he wouldn’t let himself forget. But Ignis would never really see him again.

… regardless, he thought, sucking in a sharp breath, he needed to _go_ to him. He needed to check on him himself, and be there when he woke up. He felt for where he had laid his shirt aside. It wasn’t there. He frowned. It wasn’t in the near vicinity where he had thought he had put it. Had it fallen on the floor? He ought to put something else on, but he had no inclination of if he even _had_ anything. He had been presented and helped into these pajamas last night. Where were his clothes, after switching hotels? Finding them seemed… a gargantuan task.

Getting dressed, _gargantuan_. Well, it was, when he didn’t know where things were or even if they were there at all. There were so many things he couldn’t do now. There were so many things he would need to relearn how to do– no, there really were so many things he physically _could not_ do now.

Cooking. Who was making breakfast? Who would cook for them at camp? Not that they were at camp, now, but when they got back on the road–

– and _driving_. At least… he trusted Noct behind the wheel. Prompto was okay in a pinch, but there was no way Gladio could stay behind the driver’s seat for any extended period of time. _Not_ that they were driving now, but still–

– that noise again. What was that noise? Oh right. _Him._ His breathing, too quick and hard and tipping over into the hyperventilation that he hadn’t quite made it to last night. Ignis had stood in preparation of finding his shirt– maybe he was _sitting_ on the damn thing, or something as equally ridiculous– and now he was dizzy, had to brace both hands on the bed, and knees clumsily against the side of the mattress. Breathe. _Breathe._ Find your bloody shirt and go be with Noct, he’s _waiting_ – his legs folded beneath him. He sank down the rest of the way and buried his face in the blankets. It did nothing to assist with the impediment to his breathing, but he couldn’t lift his head from the bed. He couldn’t breathe.

He hadn’t had an anxiety attack since he was _twelve_ , and now was _not_ the time to pick that particular frailty back up. But he couldn’t pick himself back up, either, and tears stung hot against his unseeing eyes and his scars. The burn seared all the way down into his lungs, and made his head feel too heavy and light at the same time.

He didn’t hear a knock at the door, but there was suddenly a voice in the room all the same, undeniably _in_ the room and undeniably Prompto. “Iggy?”

Ignis did manage to jerk his head up at that, tried to slam a hand onto the nightstand to push himself up. But he came up short; his hand went down hard through nothing but air. It threw him off balance just enough to topple over the rest of the way, narrowly missing cracking his head open on the offending nightstand. He vaguely heard Prompto exclaim his name, and then he was _there_ , and Ignis almost flinched from the shock when hands landed on his bare skin. That noise that bubbled up over his lips was godsawful.

“Sorry–! Wait, can you… you– okay, okay. Just some… difficulties, right? This is gonna pass. Think happy thoughts!” He paused, and then fingers hesitantly touched the back of Ignis’s hand. “You wanna feel me breathe? You wanna touch me? I’m here. If–If you want me. Or need me. Um… sorry, I don’t really know how to do this, it’s not really the same as when I get claustrophobic, is it…?”

His voice was too quick, panicky, almost too much for Ignis to process. But it was something to _focus_ on. He needed to do that. He _could_ do that. He could focus on his voice, and forcing a nod, and letting Prompto warily guide his hand up to his shoulder. Even breaths beneath his palm. Mostly even. He was breathing just a little fast. Ignis wondered if he should copy him, or just _focus_ on the motion instead. Let it lull him away from this. Let it distract him.

Right… he remembered, when he was younger… five things you could see, four things you could feel, three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste…

Oh _Gods_ , he _couldn’t_ see five things– this was all moot, this was all useless–

“Describe–” The words were caught in his throat. But the steady ride and fall beneath his fingers was giving him something to hold onto over the choking pressure on his chest. “… five things… please.”

“Five things? Uh, in this room? Like describe physically?” Ignis forced himself to nod again, and Prompto gave a little _hmmm_ in thought. He didn’t ask why. “Alright. The chandelier's _fancy_. Like, golden fancy. And the things that hold the light bulbs have got little etched designs, but I dunno what it is. But there’s crystals hanging from them. Like, hundreds. They’re so shiny. Annnnd predictably in the shape of teardrops… is this okay?”

Another nod. He could picture it. A chandelier was, after all, a chandelier, but that was still the point of this exercise.

“Alright!” Prompto continued, a little more confident as he continued. “The wallpaper is, like, grey. Or maybe blue. Grey-blue. Like the sky when it’s gonna storm. And there’s a floral pattern, and it’s blacker than black. It’s pretty, but it’s also a bit… a lot, if you’re actually staring at it.”

Ignis’s inhale was shaky, but it felt like his lungs were actually expanding. A tiny, tiny bit.

“The bedspread, it’s folded up at the end of your bed. ‘though I think you might have played footsie with it because it’s half off the bed, it’s also black. With white stitching. Actually this room’s a lot of dark colors. So is mine. Oh, but there are flowers! They’re the most colorful thing here. Roses and lilies and carnations. They’re pink and yellow and white.” _The color of sympathy_ , Ignis didn’t say. “And those little tiny flowers, those, um, those fillers, they’re white… uh, flowers aren’t really my thing, sorry.”

Baby’s breath, likely. Ignis breathed out and slumped sideways a little. Prompto’s shoulder, braced against his, kept him upright.

“So that’s four… hm, what else. Oh! The TV, I guess. There’s one mounted to the wall. It’s not huge or anything, but it looks nicer than the ones from the Crown City, which is saying something. And if it’s anything like the one in my room, it’s touchscreen. _And_ fingerprint resistant! I was… trying to watch the news this morning… but anyway. I should get one like this once we make it back to Insomnia, I think.”

Ignis nodded again. Asinine objects. _Good_ , asinine objects. He was already taking stock of the things he could feel. Prompto’s shirt beneath his fingers, old and worn and the slick press of geometric shapes beneath his fingers from the design. The plush carpeting, his free hand clutching lightly at the nap to drag his fingers into it. The bedside table beyond his right shoulder, brushing every so slightly against his bare skin. A gust of warm air, now and then, against his bare skin, too. A window must be open, or maybe it was a balcony.

He could hear the wind, actually. If he focused. It wasn’t steady or constant. Beyond that, he could hear the distant noises of construction, or maybe just clean-up. It wasn’t distinct enough to not worry about. Closer, the sound of life outside of his hotel room door. People coming and going as if nothing had happened. Probably scarred in their own ways, nonetheless.

He could smell the saltwater in the air, the all pervading scent that had been with him since they had first set off on the sea. And maybe, if he tried, he could smell the faintly sweet perfume of those flowers Prompto had been talking about. (It was better than smelling the metallic sharpness of blood, which he thought he ought to be be imagining, at this point.)

And something he could taste… salt, and blood. Tears. He must have bit his lip, or the wound was just bleeding again. He could really use a glass of water. It was exponentially easier to breathe now, and even to force out a few syllables as he fought to regain control. “Water,” he murmured, and tried to sit up from where he had slumped against Prompto entirely.

“Oh, hang on! Let me get you something.” Prompto’s presence was there, and then gone in a sensation of displaced air. Ignis’s head jerked up; he flung out a hand to catch the blonde’s arm and ended up with a handful of his trousers instead. It barely mattered. It stopped him, either way. “What?”

It was a fair question. He couldn’t expect Prompto to move without actually _moving_ , but he was still focusing on the press of his skin, and he hadn’t expected him to get it for him, anyway.

“Let me,” he rasped, feeling for the edge of the mattress with one hand and extending the other up towards Prompto. His limbs were still heavy, but he could _feel_ them, he could move them. That was progress. He appreciated Prompto’s willingness to help, he honestly did. But…

“No, it’s cool! I don’t–”

“ _Help_ me,” Ignis interrupted, and his voice came out too sharp and too weak at the same time, “to help myself,” he continued, ever more faintly. He flexed his fingers and silently willed Prompto to help him up. He didn’t know the layout of the room. He didn’t know where the bathroom was, or the sink, or if there was a glass to run tap water into. He didn’t even know if he could make it to the bathroom in this state, but he was ready to try. He _could not_ rely on people for the rest of his life. He would accept hand-holding, because he understood that he couldn’t do anything without it for now. But he would still do it for himself. He had to. He _had_ to–

Prompto was quiet for a moment, and then Ignis sighed in relief when he replied with an affirmative and helped him back to his feet. Maybe he understood. Or maybe, Ignis thought dryly, slowly allowing Prompto to lead him to the sink, he just didn’t want to argue with a blind man.

It was slow going, but he, with Prompto’s help, managed to get himself a glass of water and to get himself dressed. And then it was even slower going walking the hallways down to the prince’s designated room, jaw clenched against the fear of falling and hands sweaty against Prompto’s. But he did it, because he _needed_ to, regardless of if Prompto had agreed or not.

_(“C’mon, Iggy, you should rest… especially after, uh… that panic attack or what–”_

_“I need to see Noct,”_ he had interrupted, holding out a hand for a guide. When it hadn’t immediately come, he had turned around to find his way on his own.

_“Iggy.”_

_“I need to see Noct.”_

The choice of his wording hadn’t been lost on him, but he supposed he was being too sensitive.)

So Prompto had taken his hand and slipped it around his waist and braced his own in the small of Ignis’s back to guide him to Noctis’s room. He didn’t even mumble a complaint under his breath, or if he did, Ignis didn’t hear it.

No, he might not be able to _see_ Noctis, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t there when he woke up. No matter the cost. Whatever it took. He would always be there…

Ignis brushed his fingers over the gauze on his face. He had painstakingly allowed Prompto to re-bandage it for him.

… if Noctis even wanted him anymore, and clenched his hands into fists when his fingers trembled, ever so slightly.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional

By the fourth day, Ignis had long since memorized the path to Noctis’s room. He could walk it without help, and not walk into anything to boot. It was a… small success, in the scheme of things.

Prompto had offered to do his hair the first day, and had come back bright and early the next three to repeat the offer. He had clenched his teeth and let him, because it really wasn’t important compared to other things, and there was no way he would be able to do it himself for now. He would learn through touch, again, but right now, his priority remained to be Noctis.

Gladio had helped him with the shaving this morning. Again, it wasn’t much of a problem, but it was the principle of the thing. He brushed his knuckles along a clean-shaven jaw and decided it helped, at least a little. He had thanked him, and then he had asked him to sit down and help him take stock of his newest– and permanent– injuries. So Gladio had meticulously gone through injury by injury, going over Ignis’s body with a painfully blunt description of each bruise, scratch, and scar. It was why he had asked Gladio. He worried Prompto would have sugarcoated it all, and Ignis needed to _know_. He needed to know what he was dealing with, now.

Gladio’s hand had lingered against a blemish on his shoulder. “… I told you to be careful.” Ignis could tell he was wound too tightly, anger and energy, but he couldn’t ask. “I _told_ you you’d do something stupid for him.”

“You would have done it, too.”

“That’s beside the _point_ ,” Gladio had retorted, and Ignis had winced in surprise at his volume. “Sorry. Nevermind. Put your pants back on, that’s it. Here.”

He had taken his trousers back without a word, and allowed Gladio to steady him as got dressed again.

Now, he was sitting in the chair in Noctis’s room, the fourth day in a row with no change in the prince’s condition. The doctors had told them that there was nothing _physically_ stopping him from waking. Ravus had said something about battling demons in his own mind; Ignis wondered if it was anything like what had happened after the familiar attack, when Noctis had been so despondent before and after he had gone to Tenebrae. He… couldn’t help, just as he hadn’t been able to then.  

This was… made worse by the fact that he couldn’t do much of anything at all, now.

Fabric shifted, and Ignis raised his head. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, or even what time of day it was. But Noctis was moving, and the sense of ill calm that took over Ignis every time he was left in silence was shattered. There were butterflies in his stomach. Quaint, he thought dryly, and flexed his fingers. Breathe. All that mattered now was that Noctis was awake.

He listened for a moment longer, trying to pinpoint the moment when the movement stopped, when he thought he could feel the weight of eyes on him. He turned his head slightly. “Back with us?”

Noct said nothing. Ignis understood, although it did very little to settle his nerves. There was no hiding this. What had happened while Noctis had been on his own, or unconscious. He could hide the truth _behind_ it, but he couldn’t hide it. Best to get it over with. He took another moment, and took a deep breath before carefully pushing himself up to his feet.

“I’ll tell the others… though it may take a bit.” He didn’t know where they were, right now. He could call them, but he would have to go back to his room to grab his phone. He had forgotten it. It barely seemed to matter right now, and he turned away from the press of the sunlight through the window and turned his face towards the interior of the room. Towards Noctis.

A delayed pause, in which Ignis held his breath despite himself. He couldn’t help it. And then–

“You’re hurt…”

He made a noise like he had forgotten, as if he could. Detached. “A small sacrifice… in the greater battle.” It was. A small sacrifice. He had been prepared to give his life. He had been prepared to die. This was nothing. So he kept saying.

Noctis said nothing in reply. Ignis wished he could tell what was happening. The kind of look on the prince’s face. He didn’t have that. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was. He turned his face away, and then started for the door. If he was overly cautious to take his time and make certain he didn’t trip, or walk into anything, despite knowing this path, he doubted Noctis would notice.

“And Luna…?”

He stopped. His heart seized in his chest and he pushed the pain away. It wasn’t his to feel. “… she has passed.” He wished he could tell him differently. He wished he didn’t have to tell him at all. But it had to be him. It _always_ had to be him. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to handle discussions so delicate, even if they were liable to break him apart as well.

The long pauses were threat to do that, too. He thought he heard the hitch in Noctis’s breath, but didn’t trust his own senses. Noct would… need to grieve. For that, he would give him his time alone. He swallowed, and raised his hand to point towards the bed without actually looking. “Umbra left that for you.” The notebook that Prompto had informed him about. They hadn’t moved it from Noctis’s side since they had brought him here, he had been told.

Ignis was tired, abruptly. No, that wasn’t true. He had been tired the past four days with no real relief coming in the night; sunshine was darkness and _darkness_ was darkness and his body was warring on when he was meant to sleep. It meant he wasn’t sleeping well at all. The press of sunlight’s warmth, and the vague sensation of light if he looked into it, gave him just enough energy to press on, but his circadian rhythm, or perhaps emotional state, was in desperate need of smoothing out. Like everything else, it would take time. Like most everything else, it didn’t matter right now.

He continued to the door, one careful step at a time.

“Wait!” Noctis’s voice sounded too loud in the room and Ignis cringed and cursed himself for it. That was quickly becoming a habit. He was already more easy to startle since he couldn’t see. ( _How was he supposed to be a_ tactician _if he couldn’t see to_ fight _?_ ) He needed to curb that, and be ready for anything. More rustling of blankets and the mattress giving, footsteps hit the floor and a teeny clang of something hard and small on the floorboards– the Ring, his mind supplied, but he didn’t say because he wasn’t supposed to know it was there– a pause, and then bare feet hurrying across the room. “Don’t– Don’t go–”

Ignis braced himself for touch, although he didn’t look back around. He would rather Noct not look at his face. Telling himself it was inevitable was something else entirely, but he didn’t want him dwelling on another injury that he would no doubt feel the blame for–

“Iggy…?”

“You should rest.”

“No, tell me– tell me what happened, to… to you, I… what happened?”

He didn’t turn. “Nothing of import, Noct–”

“Bullshit!” He flinched again. Noctis didn’t seem to notice. “That… _when_ did it happen? Is that why you didn’t come to meet up with me? Or… or afterwards? What– what did it, how bad does it _hurt_ –” Displacement of air. Ignis stepped back as he felt Noctis move in front of him, but this time, he didn’t turn away. “I just– I– I–” He suddenly went quiet.

Ignis swallowed, wondering what would come next.

“You… can you… can you _see?_ ”

He closed his eyes. It made no difference. “… I’m afraid not.”

“… At all?” Noctis’s voice was very small, and Ignis yearned to reach out and comfort him.

He did, in fact, although his hand missed its mark. He landed on his neck instead of his arm, and then readjusted. “Not for now.”

“So it could fix itself??”

“Perhaps.” The lie was easier than the truth.

“… Wait. Wait. Let me fix it,” Noct said quickly. “My blood– my blood’ll heal it, it can handle wounds– you just drink it, and– and it doesn’t turn you, but–”

Ignis slid his hand down to Noctis’s wrist to stop him before he could hurt himself. “No.”

“Yes. New injuries–”

“It’s been four days, Noct,” Ignis said softly. “It’s already healing nicely.”

Noct stopped moving. “F… Four days…?” A beat, and then he was pulling out of Ignis’s grasp. “Okay. Maybe, if I _do_ turn you–”

Horror washed over him, far worse than the reality of being blind. _“No.”_

“It might help your eyes!”

“You know as well as I old injuries aren’t healed during a turning.” The words practically tied his tongue in his haste to say them. Noctis was hanging onto _his_ wrist now, voice high and panicked.

“But it’s not _that_ old! Maybe if– Maybe–”

“Noct,” he interrupted. Softly, and putting on his best smile. He had no way of knowing what it really looked like. “It’s–”

“Don’t you _dare_ say it’s fine!” Noctis’s voice broke. “Don’t you… don’t you _dare_ … not– not like _this_ …” Weight leaning against his chest. Hair tickling his chin. Noctis’s face buried into his shirt. “I don’t want anyone else hurt for me. I don’t want anyone else to make _s–sacrifices_ for me–”

Ignis dragged his arms up, heavy, from his sides. Wrapping them around Noctis’s body still worked. They still fit together. Some things remained blissfully normal. “… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that,” Noct rasped. “Don’t… _apologize_ … not you…”

Whatever words that might have been shared were gone in choking tears and Noctis’s body shaking with the strain of his grief. Ignis had to close his eyes to fend off the stinging in his eyes himself. Yes, he _hurt_. But it hurt far worse to see Noct in this kind of pain, and to know, that to some extent, he had brought it on himself by choosing to put on the Ring and accept the price.

He would do it all over again to protect him. But this… was killing him in a completely different way.

He couldn’t get them both back to the bed like this, not in his position and not with Noctis’s state, uncontrollable, unimaginable grief wracking his body, so when the strain of Noctis’s weight became too much for his tired legs and aching body to handle, he merely sank down to the floor and pulled Noctis down with him. He never once let go. He couldn’t.

“Don’t ever leave me, Iggy…” Noctis mumbled sometime later, half asleep in his delirium. His hands were clutching at his shirt. “I can’t lose you… I can’t lose anyone else… I can’t _do_ it, Ignis, _please_ …”

He smoothed his hand down his spine, and had long since buried his face into his hair. He didn’t move now. “I’m right here.”

“Stay with me…”

“Always.”

It was a promise he had never had any business making. Being both a hunter and Crownsguard meant he lived life with two times the danger any normal civilian should. He was meant to die to protect someone else if need be, whether it was a human or the prince. That was his function. That was his _profession_. But it had _always_ been a promise he intended to keep. Knowing he would lay down his life– especially for Noctis– was _always_ in the back of his mind, but he _fully_ intended to _always_ be there. To protect him, and guide him, and take care of him. And love him, more than he had ever loved anything in his whole life.

It was a foolish promise. But until his _always_ ran out, he would be there. If he was permitted to continue at the prince of Lucis’s side, _however_ _long_ he was permitted to be at Noctis’s side… he would be. So he stood by his _always_ promise, however foolish it may have seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen we saw how numb he went when Luna died, if he was in an est relationship with Ignis and not only _Luna_ died but Ignis nearly did as well? like you knows he's got baggage about that in the main game but with a romantic relationship involved? oof  
>  
> 
> I've been meaning to ask this for awhile but always forget- **would any of you guys be interested in little 'side stories'** , as they were, **revolving around this fic?** They wouldn't have any effect on the main story, but there's been some stuff I needed to sacrifice for the sake of pushing plot on soo... if anyone's interested I may do! It won't happen right away because I've been having a bit of a hard time with the real life things, but once I get my shit together...
> 
> edit edit: one of my fav parts that comes outta Altissia is how Ignis hesitates when he's about to see Noct after the injury? like he taps his his hand on the chair before he turns to face him? if you haven't noticed that _go look_ honestly it's literally one of my favorite small details ever


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Cartanica.

The days continued.

He didn’t know if it was accurate to say that things got easier, but they… continued. They found the next location for a royal tomb. Altissia was rebuilding at an impressive rate. The First Secretary had an audience with all four of them, and commended them on their efforts. It felt stale, and Noctis didn’t sound so much the diplomat as he did the frightened boy that had come back from Tenebrae, all those years ago.

As predicted, he had set to distancing himself, from all three of them. Ignis had expected it, and wasn't hurt for it. Much. He knew his coping mechanisms. And… shamefully, minded a little _less_ than he might have, had it not been for this disability he was struggling through.

It got easier. And worse. He could do a passable job at his own hair. Shaving resulted in knicks the first few times– more than he could count on both hands– but it was accomplished alone. Dressing was simple enough if he went slowly, although it was difficult to organize what he was wearing. Thankfully they didn’t have many clothes to cycle through, so he could generally tell by sleeve length or texture. The skull design down the back of his fatigues. Buttons down the front. Short sleeves of his t-shirt. Whenever they went back home, one day, he would have to work out a better way to organize things. Some sort of system…? Something to think about.

There were lots of things to think about. The silence and inactivity gave him time to further realize his limitations. Reading was absolutely out of the question for now. With the help of the First Secretary’s staff, he was able to procure a small collection of books on learning braille, but he found his mind wandering as he tried to make sense of the rules of the raised dots. He had always been studious; this should be no different and yet, Ignis found his mind wandering off with his fingers still on the pages. It only served to… solidify the fact that he had _actually_ lost his sight. As if that were not painfully obvious to begin with.

Reading. Writing. Texting. Fighting. Cooking. Cleaning. Driving. Their tactics, their accounting, their logs, his research, his _recipes–_ Gods above, _stop_.

He tried not to focus on what he couldn’t do. He would figure out a way around it. He would, eventually, and that was what mattered. So he told himself.

Something touched his shoulder. He jolted up, no, jolted awake. He… must had dozed off right at the desk. His book still open beneath his hands. His fingertips felt raw for running over letters, but he knew he must be imagining that.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure…” Noctis’s voice trailed off. His hand slipped from Ignis’s shoulder. “It’s morning. Were you… up all night?”

Ignis twisted for where he knew the windows were, but he had drawn the curtains days ago and hadn’t opened them since. Being able to feel but not see the sunlight was both a blessing and a cruel taunt. “Ah. It seems I was.”

“Are you…” Noct hesitated. “… alright?”

“Quite.” He moved his chair back to stand. His head felt too light and his body too heavy. Aching for having sat in one place overnight, nevermind however long he had dozed off for. “Are you staying?”

He had, for the past few days, been coming to Ignis’s room instead of his own to sleep, in the morning. And Ignis would always linger in bed, because he had nothing else he wanted to do and because he usually hadn’t slept the night through, either. Noctis was usually quiet, and quick to fall asleep, but Ignis held him all the same. He didn’t really want to talk, anyway.

“Yeah. If that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Ignis gestured to the bed. “I’ll join you for awhile.”

Noctis mumbled something in agreement, and went to crawl into bed as was becoming routine again. Ignis excused himself to the bathroom before joining him, swallowing back the weary sigh that threatened him as he sank into the mattress. He was tired. He vaguely wondered if it was more physical… or emotional, at this point.

He slipped his arm around the prince’s shoulders, as their usual system, but Noct surprised him when he leaned over and kissed him first on the jaw, and then on the mouth. That was the first sign of affection since… that last stolen kiss in the middle of a busy Altissia. His body came alive in a muted sense, bare arms against his arms and hot breath against his mouth. Threading his fingers through Noctis’s hair and cradling the back of his head, swallowing the little gasps that piqued his body further.

Noctis’s hand came to rest along Ignis’s cheek, fingertips brushing just beneath the scar, and Ignis tensed despite himself, despite the pleasure, the mindless act of giving in fleeing under the weight of his injuries again.

“Does… it still hurt?” Noct murmured. His breath wasn’t on his face, so he must have pulled away.

Ignis licked his lips to speak. “A little.” He lied. It didn’t.

Noct was quiet, lingering for a moment, but then he moved his hand off to rest on the mattress instead, and Ignis breathed a sigh of relief.

He had gotten lost in the taste of Noctis’s mouth and the weight of companionship beneath his skin once again, when Noct slipped his hand up under Ignis’s shirt.

His mind shorted again– all he could think was of the scars on his stomach, and chest, and upper arms, the ones that only Gladio and Prompto knew about, and the ones he didn’t want Noctis to see or touch or feel badly about, or even somehow worse, feel _disgusted_ by– he tried to snatch Noct’s hand back and caught his elbow instead, too quickly, and Noctis jerked back as though he had been struck with a stray lightning spell.

“Sorry! Did I…?”

“No,” he said quickly. His shirt was rucked up over the lower part of his stomach, and he gritted his teeth over the urge to pull it back down. “Just… not now, Noct.”

“Why? I’m fine. I _want_ to.”

“I don’t.”

“…… Oh.”

Ignis closed his eyes, habit rather than of necessity. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just that… he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to explain. “Apologies,” he said instead, and kept his eyes closed.

“No, I… _I’m_ sorry,” Noct said, almost too quietly for him to hear. “I shouldn’t have… nevermind,” he said, and settled back down to lay with his head on Ignis’s shoulder. He couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice, though and Ignis hated the rush of self-loathing that came with it. And then he pushed it away. Noct was still here with him that counted for _something._

They fell silent, laying together as the morning sunshine rose outside.

Ignis didn’t sleep. Next to him, he didn’t think Noctis did, either.

 

 

The ride to Cartanica was fraught with grief, and tension, and the sensation of the train rolling along the tracks beneath his feet making him queasy. He said nothing– he didn’t think it was his place, given the secrets he was keeping about the nature of his injury. He didn’t have the mental acuity for an argument, anyway.

Arriving changed very little, save serving to heighten his growing discontent about going into a potentially dangerous situation in Fodina Caestino. Noct declared they would go down in the morning, leaving the three of them to do as they saw fit with the remaining hours of assumed daylight. Ignis had forced himself to eat something and then found his way to the sleeper car by way of the cane he had been presented, three weeks ago, before leaving Altissia.

He braced his forehead on his knees and tried to breathe into relaxation. When that didn’t work, he pushed himself up to rummage through his things. He had packed meticulously. The first aid kit and respective medicines were tucked in the back left corner of his bag. The bottle of aspirin had one rubber band wrapped around it, lengthwise. The sleeping pills he had also procured in Altissia had two, one lengthwise and one across the width. He plucked at the rubber bands, dumped a pill into his palm, and then carefully put the rubber bands back. Temporary identifiers.

He was just putting the pill on his tongue when the compartment door slid open. He paused, but then reached for the bottle of water he had left on the windowsill.

“… Are you okay?”

Noctis it was, then. Ignis twisted the cap off and gulped back a mouthful of water, and nodded as he set the bottle back down. “Yes.” He was about to put the pills back in the medicine kit, and put it back in his bag, when there was a rush of air and the pills clattered in their bottle as Noct picked it up before he could even touch it. He resisted the urge to try and snatch them back. “Noct.”

“Sleeping pills? You can’t sleep?”

“Just making sure I get my eight hours.” He held out his hand patiently.

“No… you wouldn’t take them if you were sleeping right.” Noct hesitated, and then pressed the bottle into his palm. “It’s throwing you off, isn’t it? Your… injury.”

His _blindness._ They avoided that word. Ignis couldn’t blame them. He had been tending to avoid it himself. A quiet sigh as he put the bottle back in its place. “Just a little.” He didn’t know which parts was the blindness, which was anxiety or which was… just trauma. He didn’t care to talk about his emotions, though. Blindness it was.

“Are you sleeping at all?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t a lie. He was taking sleeping aids when he needed to make certain he slept. He didn’t want to be reliant on medications, either, although that had become something of a lost battle the past few weeks. Antibiotics for the wounds, painkillers for the various injuries, pills to help him sleep. The antibiotics had run their course and he was mostly pain free at this point, so those, at least, were off his docket. Now if he could get to sleep and _stay_ asleep without the tiresome cycle of a thrown off schedule and bad dreams.

The bed opposite him groaned under Noctis’s weight as he sat. Ignis returned to his own, holding out a hand to be sure not to bump into the top bunk.

“I…” Noct trailed off.

The lack of visual clues was disheartening with all of this silence. Ignis didn’t push him. He would continue when he was ready. In the meantime, Ignis got his legs folded onto the mattress and situated so he wasn’t overly uncomfortable in their given sleeping space. The pills he was taking were effective; he would have around fifteen minutes before the drowsiness kicked in and he didn’t want to have to fight it.

“Are you gonna be okay tomorrow?” It didn’t sound like the words Noctis had been grappling with. He let it slide. “In the mine, I mean.”

He ignored the increase in his heart rate, and smiled tightly. “I’ll manage somehow.”

Noctis likely _did_ hear the change in his pulse, but he didn’t say anything. So many words unspoken. Ignis was becoming too familiar with the prince’s avoidance tactics, in his own way, and he wanted to sigh at the thought of the chastisements he had always used to give Noct back when they had been at the Citadel. Things had been different. He hadn’t understood.

“You can stay behind if you want.”

_No, I_ do not _want._ He was very careful not to say it. He expected his tone wouldn’t have been kind. He took a moment to force back the sense of… fear. It was fear. There was nothing else it could be. It made his body stiffen and his stomach seize and his fingertips press that much more into his own skin. The very real fear that he was useless in the Crownsguard, and by extension, useless to Noct. That he would ask him to step aside in order for them to carry on as they should, unencumbered by a blind man learning to do the most menial of tasks again. His nightmares come true; he _did not_ want to be left behind.

“Is that what you want?” he asked carefully instead, keeping his head turned straight ahead towards the wall.

“No, I… I want you there, I just… want what’s best…”

“Should’ve worried about that a long time ago.” Gladio’s voice, in the doorway. “Don’t start now.”

Ignis could practically feel the indignant anger flare up from Noctis’s bed, but Prompto was there, too, and the blonde spoke before tempers could fly. Make no mistake that they would.

He was able to keep his own anger in check, for the most part. Some of the comments cut deeper than others, but most of his mental process was wrapped up in other emotions, and working to cope. Throw in being nonconfrontational in that sort of way to begin with, and he had little will to argue. He wanted to defend Noctis.

… but he also knew where Gladiolus was coming from, to an extent. Only, he had to remember that Noct hadn’t taken on his responsibilities yet. Maybe he ought to have had, but he _hadn’t_ , and no amount of pushing and prodding would get him to the throne before he was ready.

Gladio was worried. It was the way he _reacted_ when he was worried.

Ignis could remember, back in the Citadel before he and Gladio had become close, when Clarus had taken an injury in battle and his son, in his upset, had sought Cor for a sparring session. Gladio hadn’t let up even when Cor ordered him to stand down; young Amicitia had charged the Marshal with his back turned and suffered the consequences of both humiliation and having his arm sprained– on accident, but he had provoked the fight.

Ignis had remembered watching and thinking, very seriously, that he would never let his emotions hold such power over him in battle.

Ha. Magnificently ironic, that.

“Uhh, sorry if we’re… interrupting.”

“Just go to sleep,” Gladio said, and it sounded like he was hauling himself up into bed. “We’re going down in the morning, like it or not.”

“Right…”

Ignis laid back as Prompto clamoured into the bunk above him. There were waves of anger coming from the other bunk, Gladio quietly dominating and Noctis silently fuming as the mattress squeaked and protested him moving about.

Ignis ought to say something, really. But he was _tired_.

He ended up fighting the sleeping pill anyway. Gladio was blessed with the ability to fall asleep quickly, no matter where they were, and Ignis was banking on that as he struggled to stay awake himself. Theoretically, he didn’t need to wait for him to fall asleep, as Gladio wasn’t controlling the flow of conversation even if he thought he was, but Noct was more liable to be himself without the threat of Gladio listening in.

So, heavily drowsy and aching to sleep, Ignis waited until telltale snores were floating through the air. He forced his lips to form the syllable, turning his head towards the other bed. “… Noct.”

“What?”

Ignis held out his hand– or more like flopped his arm out over the edge of the mattress, but the point was the same. Gesturing him over, if he would. Space was limited, but they could manage.

A pause, and then it sounded like Noct moving, as if his back had been to him– stop being so uncertain, Ignis. Make an assumption and if you’re wrong, you’re wrong. He breathed out sharply, quietly to himself; another pause, and then Noct rolled out of bed. _That_ was an assumption he didn’t have time to prove false; the prince all but crashed into his bed a half second later, curling up against him. He was shaking.

Ignis breathed out again at the force of the sudden arrival, but locked both of his securely around him and held him close. Just the same as every other night, now also partly necessitated by the desire to not let Noctis fall out of bed.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Noctis muttered, fingers clutching at his shirt. Warmth swept over Ignis’s skin, relief and contentment catching him on the way to sleep. The words he’d been wanting to hear. “Somehow… we’ll manage. We’ll manage…”

He hummed a sleepy note of acknowledgment. “We will,” he promised, and promised himself he’d learn to believe it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posts a chapter where Gladio's ~~a bit of a dick~~ on Gladio's birthday whoops... anyway I've said it before and I'll say it again: I appreciate how well put together the game shows Iggy on the outside, but there's no way he is on the inside
> 
> I hope everyone had a good easter! clearly my updates are no longer regular--- I'm in no way abandoning this story, I just haven't had the time ~~and ambition and dammit I started playing persona 3 again~~ to work on it lately. I'll get back into the swing of things but until then, thanks for your kind words and patience!


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's... proving a challenge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of potential squeamish squicky ick towards the end of this chap, maaaybe? i mean it involves blood so i'm not sure i need to say that in a vamp au but---

“I’m fine,” he snapped, waving the helping hand away. His voice came out too curt. He could hear it himself. But his hands and knees were stinging from the fall, and frustration was bubbling up almost too quickly for him to contain.

They _meant_ well. He knew that. Their constant _watch your step_ s and _be careful_ s and the abject panic in either Prompto or Noctis’s voice when he did take the inevitable tumble. _Lots_ of good the cane did. The ground was steep, and it was raining. Try as he may, the plan wasn’t foolproof and he was prepared to hurt for it. He didn’t want to be treated like spun glass. But they meant well. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Don’t push yourself, Iggy,” Gladio said.

Ignis acknowledged him with a wave of his hand before Noctis tangled their fingers together again. Damn. Noct had taken his hand in the elevator down and hadn’t let go of it since, save to clear rubble out of the way or fight. And it was good, it was great, it was… not _helping_ him in the sense of having a guide. It helped for comfort, the pass of Noctis’s thumb over the back of a gloved hand when had started shaking from that barely restrained frustration. But it wasn’t doing much to _guide_ him.

Rightfully, he knew he should just tell him. But he _wanted_ to hold his hand. He wanted to hold _him_. Weeks had gone by since Leviathan and they had been afforded such little time together. And he didn’t want to hurt Noct’s feelings by making him relent on trying to soothe and help him. But…

_Just tell him. Tell him what you need. Just tell him. Gods, it’s not that difficult–_

“Your arm, please,” he blurted, and made an effort to soften his voice. “As much as I enjoy holding your hand, Noct, it’s easier for me to gauge movement the other way…”

“Oh.” Noctis didn’t hesitate. He gently placed Ignis’s hand in the crook of his arm instead, and his voice was directed at him when he spoke. “Is that better?”

Ignis squeezed. “Yes. Thank you.”

It was truly miserable. He had no other way to describe it. When they finally found a suitable place for camp, he was cold and aching and drenched from both rain and water. Noctis, Prompto, or Gladio had been by his side the entire time– almost so much so to that fault he had been thinking about earlier. He was certain he already had bruises from falling, nevermind injuries he couldn’t feel through the cold and things Noctis didn’t mention.

Dinner was… unsatisfying, to say the least, and Ignis ate very little before letting Gladio guide him to their tent. He was exhausted.

The others must have joined him at some point, but he had fallen asleep too quickly to know when. When Gladio’s alarm went off, he was the last one out of the tent in wariness of stepping on any of them. Noctis tapped his shoulder and helped him back to his feet. Ignis ducked his head to peck a kiss against his cheek.

They didn’t linger at camp, which was just as well. The rain was still falling, and the all pervading ache in his body from yesterday’s troubles had only seemed to get worse overnight. His head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He wanted a warm bed and a hot meal. Or, at the very least, the bunk on the train and the chicken nuggets that were the dining car’s _exclusive_ and only meal. An Ebony, too. Was it too much to ask?

Wishful thinking, of course, accomplished nothing.

They ended up in a battle that knocked them all off their feet instead, left Ignis coughing and reeling, staggering back to his feet, dizzy and overwhelmed. When he overheard the others start to talk about retreat, all he could think was _I bloody well think not_. He had come down here. He had come this far. _He’d_ managed– they all had, all battling their own demons–

He was terrible at fighting himself. Part of the reason they were overmatched, likely, and he _detested_ that thought. Physical combat was nearly out of the question at this point, as he’d proven very early on in this mine, so what could he do? What he _could_ do… magic. Like with Titan. It had never been a strong suit, particularly, but with the sounds of battle diminished around him and only the rasp of the monster’s breathing and gurgling, maybe… focus.

The triumph the rushed over him when he succeeded in stunning the beast was temporary, comparing to the way that his head swam. He fell back as the others rushed forward, nursing the headache and weakness attacking his body. Overexertion? Perhaps… he _was_ inconceivably tired. Or perhaps not so inconceivably, given the circumstances.

He had straightened up before the others joined him. The royal tomb was easy pickings from then on out, and he expected to be back above ground and resting without further complication. He should have expected life would not deem to be so easy right now.

Acerbic comments came with another wave of unsteadiness; his legs very nearly buckled and nausea swept up from the pit of his stomach along with a rebuttal for the bickering.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he was _tired_. Tired of walking through this quarry, and tired of the fighting, and tired in general. And now, he was starting to suspect, very much sick as well. Perhaps the wound from yesterday had gotten infected… if the creature had injected him with poison… he had been too tired to treat himself yesterday and too tired to ask. Or maybe it was just the after effects of the battle with the monster outside the tomb. He wasn’t... certain.

He did a great job at faking it, though, instead choosing to focus on the words he needed to say now that he’d started to say them. Trying to reassert his place here– promising he would step aside if need be and praying he didn’t have to– and to smoothe over the rough edges of their friendships. Words, at least, he still had. He could do something with those.

He liked to think he could, anyway, when the other three seemed to accept his little speech without much complaint. Time would tell how they would act around each other, but with any luck, it would be one less thing to set his nerves aflame with uneasiness. Noctis’s, too–

His knees really did buckle this time. He had enough presence of mind to let go of Noctis’s arm so he didn’t drag him down with him.

“Ignis!”

“I’m fine,” he rasped, splaying his hand against his chest. He realized how very much like Noct he sounded, with that reflexive response. “I think a wound may have gotten infected,” he admitted. “Or it’s poison.”

“Poison?!”

“Hey.” Noctis pressed his hand against his forehead. _“Shit,_ you’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t think much of it.”

“How can you _not??”_

“Being achy is not uncommon,” he muttered, and was glad he couldn’t see Noctis’s face at that particular comment. “It’s cold and wet.”

“Where’s the injury?” Prompto asked. “The one you’re worried about.”

“My leg,” he murmured. “Give me a moment.” He would need to sit down properly for them to look, rather than sitting on his knees as he was.

“Gladio, give me an antidote.”

“No good. We couldn’t buy any upstairs, remember?”

“What!”

Noctis swore again, fingers clutching at Ignis’s shoulder. Ignis leaned into him a tiny bit. Now that he had been forced to acknowledge the fever, he couldn’t ignore it.

“We need to get him back up,” Gladio continued. “Then we can–”

“He can’t _walk_.”

“I can walk,” he said, and was met with three very firm disagreements in response. “Perhaps after resting, then. A power nap…”

“Dare you _dare_ fall asleep!” Noctis retorted, and very lightly shook his shoulder. “Ignis. What can we–”

“I can carry him,” Gladio commented.

Ignis pried his eyes open. “Absolutely not.” He would _walk_. He had just said that if he was a burden, he would gracefully bow out. He hadn’t expected it so _quickly_.

“I could go on ahead to get some supplies? And come back?” Prompto supplied.

“And leave you fighting monsters by yourself? Hell no.”

“I could do it!”

“No,” Ignis interrupted, and couldn’t swallow back a gasp at another one of those recurring, steady throbs of pain.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake–” Noctis’s hand fell from his shoulder; there was movement Ignis couldn’t begin to judge and Prompto protesting something the prince was doing. Then something was pressed up against Ignis’s lips. Skin, but hot and wet and sticky–

He went reeling backwards when recognized it was _blood_ , collapsing back on his backside and hands in a panic. “Noct!” He scrubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, nausea curling into his stomach at the very _thought_ – “What are you–”

“Vamp blood’s got restorative properties, you know this.” Noctis was frowning. Ignis didn’t need to see to hear it in his voice. “You’re sick, if it’s poison, it takes care of it. Injured, it heals you. And it’ll act like an energy shot so you aren’t so miserable getting out of here.”

Was he using _logic_ on him? Ignis didn’t _like_ it. “I’m not–”

“It won’t turn you. You _know_ that.” Noctis pressed the hand that wasn’t bleeding to his face. “Please? I know you think it’s disgusting and I guess it probably is to a human, but… you’re… you can’t go on like this. Just once? I won’t drink from you for a few days just in case.”

He _really_ didn’t like it. But he was _right_. Ignis did know all of this. But the _idea_ … he was already nauseous from the infection, or poison, or sickness, whatever it may be, and the idea of _drinking blood_ made his breath catch and his stomach clench. He wasn’t a vampire. That was Noctis’s niche, not his. But…

“… Do it,” Gladio said. Ignis looked towards him. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t turn you.”

“I _won’t_.”

“I know he won’t,” he said at the same time.

“Yeah, well, we gotta get out of here and the longer we sit, the worse you’ll get.” Gladio huffed. Or maybe it was a sigh. “Drink his blood or we’ll drag your unconscious ass out of here.”

Ignis winced. “Such tempting choices,” he murmured, and swallowed the bile threatening at his throat. “I’ll… give it a go.” If Noctis had gotten used to _being a vampire_ , surely he could handle swallowing a mouthful or two of Noctis’s blood, once. Right…? He held out his hand for Noctis’s wrist.

“Thank you,” Noct whispered, leaning forward to kiss him quickly. Then he pulled back, and replaced his lips with his bloody wrist, and Ignis took a deep breath through his mouth and licked at the blood that was presented to him.

His first reaction was to retch, and then… not. Because Noctis was right; it was like an electric burst beneath his tongue, hot and _disgusting_ but _good_ at the same time. He vaguely remembered, months ago now, when Noct had taken his first drink and said he was going to be ill, but that he _enjoyed_ it. He suddenly realized how he must have felt. The taste was abhorrent, but the _feeling_ it gave him? For the first time in weeks, all of his pain was _receding_.

He gripped at Noctis’s wrist, and closed his lips over the bleeding puncture marks there.

The prince made some sort of noise, but Ignis didn’t focus on it. It ceased to matter; the fact that all three of his friends were watching him drink blood from a _vampire_ ceased to matter. He wasn’t tired, he wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t on the edge of anger or a perpetual breakdown–

“Iggy.”

If he was human, and blood gave him this much of a boost, what did it feel like to be a _vampire?_ Something like this, or better?

“Ignis!” Gently but firmly, Noctis’s arm was wrenched out of Ignis’s grip and he was left with cold air and blood dripping down his chin. And the startling, obvious reality that he was a _human_ who had just been _actively_ _wanting_ to drink _blood_. He might have felt sick again, if he still didn’t feel fantastic. “Take it easy,” Noct murmured. “You don’t need a lot. I don’t think.”

He pressed his hand over his mouth. “Apologies.” Head turned away, he licked his lips.

“Are you… feeling better?” Prompto asked hesitantly.

Ignis didn’t want to know what he was thinking. “Yes.”

“It might take a minute or two to affect you on the outside.” Noct pressed his hand back against Ignis’s face. “But you don’t feel as warm already. You should be okay to go, yeah, in a minute.”

“Right.” Ignis swallowed, and scrubbed the blood off his mouth and onto his gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for you dag slorp slorp welcome   
> am i killing the man yet
> 
>  
> 
> anyway I'm not gonna say much about this (yet) ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ some more in-game content got glossed over (even though it still did happen here) but for the sake of not making the chapter as long and slow and heartbreaking as the actual dungeon was sobs, continued to focus on the vamp aspects ~~and will continue to as... certain things happen in the future~~


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on the way to Tenebrae
> 
>    
>  ~~aka this train ride is worse than the excess express!~~
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~

Noctis’s blood granted him the most curious experience once they were back on the train, namely that every noise was overly audible and that he could smell things in the air he hadn’t noticed prior. He could remember, vaguely, being taught this could happen to a human after ingesting vampire blood. It would wear off quickly. But, even for a moment… even if he wasn’t witnessing likely half of what Noct could, it was… _spellbinding_.

He tried not to think about how even more useful it was, to him, having no sight. The thoughts pervaded, but he refused to entertain it for longer than a moment. He couldn’t think that way. He would get by on his own. The easy way out was not necessarily the best one.

Still, it did afford him overhearing information worth looking into and, squeezing Noctis’s hand across the tabletop, went with Gladiolus to speak with their informant about the longer nights.

“You doing alright?”

He nodded. “Better than, now.”

Gladio sounded like he didn’t want to know, or ask, and did anyway. “Really helps that much?”

“Yes.”

“Your senses have been kicked up, haven’t they?”

Ignis laughed dryly. His first instinct was still to fix his glasses when he was called out. Some things were very much still the same. “Am I being that obvious?”

Gladio huffed a laugh, taking his arm to guide him around something. “You haven’t stopped fidgeting since we got topside.”

“Well. That’s embarrassing.”

It was more a laugh than a huff this time; Gladio squeezed his elbow in lieu of likely nudging his shoulder. “As long as it helps, I guess. Just don’t push yourself like that again, and you won’t need it.”

“I understand,” he said, joking but solemn. He knew the dangers of being addicted to vampire blood, just as much as the dangers of vampire _venom_. Or just the dangers of being around a vampire altogether, but he had chosen to forget those as of late.

“So that’s how you heard this guy, huh. I had to go clear to the front to find him.”

“I–” Ignis stopped, turning his head.

“What?”

“I’m… not sure.” There was nothing in particular, but in the moment, it had felt like he had… missed a few seconds. Like missing a step in the stairs, but with no discernible difference in the atmosphere around him. Everyone was still talking, the train was still moving, Gladio’s fingers had tightened around his arm. All normal. So why did it feel like something was decidedly _not_ normal? His imagination…?

“Ignis?”

“You didn’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Displacement, perhaps?” He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“You sure?”

He wasn’t, particularly, but he didn’t have any good explanation. Besides, it was still hard to trust his own senses, elevated or not. “I’m sure. Let us continue.”

He couldn’t shake the feeling, though, even as Gladio introduced him to the man who had been talking about the longer nights. He let his attention be diverted, but kept one ear to the door, so to speak. Which proved to distract him even further, when he thought he heard something about _a couple kids in black running amok_. They’d already had the comment about wearing all black, but Noct and Prompto wouldn’t be causing _trouble_ –

No more than had he thought that, the train jerked with a horrible sounding shriek, and everything went sideways.

He very narrowly avoided slamming his head into the back of the seat; he ended up on the floor regardless, but didn’t have time to worry about himself. People were screaming. The train was grinding to a halt. He should have listened to his instincts. Something was very _wrong_.

“Ignis!”

“I’m fine.” He fumbled for Gladio’s hand. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t know. Guaranteed it’s not good, thou–”

Glass shattering. It sounded too close and too far at the same time, and he threw his arm up over his face just in case. “What’s happening!?”

“Imperial soldiers! Get back! Everyone, get back!”

Initially, he bristled at the insinuation _he_ needed to get back, but Gladio was right. Close combat, he couldn’t use his magic, and there were too many passengers in danger. He staggered the few feet up to where he knew the door was, shoving it open. “Into the next car!” he ordered, to those who might have been listening. “Quickly! Gladio, we need to get to the front of the train to find out if we can get moving again!”

“Can you go ahead? I’ll follow once I take care of these guys!”

“Right.” He would manage. It was a straight shot, if he could avoid tripping over anyone, which would inevitably _not_ go as easily as he wanted. But he trusted Gladio would be able to catch up soon. So, he went, carefully but quickly, and resisted the urge to drag his phone from his pocket and voice dial Noct to make certain he was fine. Whatever was happening, he knew he could fend for himself. He trusted he could. Prompto was likely with him, and all of this was for nothing if they couldn’t secure the train’s passage. He would check in once they knew more.

He had only gotten to the next car when there was an explosion and the train jerked again. He stayed on his feet by someone grabbing his arm, but his ears were echoing with the sound– so _loud_ – that he almost missed that it was Gladio, and he was speaking to him again.

“Are they bombing us?” Ignis asked. His ears were _still_ ringing. He could smell smoke, and fire, and… metal, maybe.

“I don’t know, _go!_ Everyone, go, take cover!”

He half staggered, half relied on Gladio’s hand clutching at his to drag him up to the motor unit.

“Stay here!” Gladio said, once they had made it to the door. “I’m going back.”

“What?!”

“To check on the passengers.” He heard him summon his blade and start running. “Stay here!”

“Gladio…!” He groaned, and then raised his voice. “Be careful!”

“You too!”

He could fend for himself. They all could, himself included, damn it. He wrenched the motor unit’s door open and stepped inside. “What’s happened?”

“Sir, you need to– oh, Mr. Scientia.” The conductor recognized him. The staff had been made aware of the king of Lucis and his retinue boarding back at their initial station. “We’re fixing it as fast as we can, sir, but these blasted Imperials–”

“My friends will take care of them. There’s an actual malfunction?”

“Yeah, I’m workin’ on it!” the engineer yelled. “The explosions aren’t helping!”

“How long until you can repair it?” he asked. Now he was feeling for his phone.

“Five minutes, the bare minimum to get us runnin’, but she can’t take this sustained damage that long! Much more and we won’t be going anywhere at all!”

“Right.” He braced a shoulder against the wall and grimaced, trying not to worry, when his call to Noct rang out. Prompto next. He answered on the fourth ring.

_“Iggy?! Are you okay??”_

“I’m fine. Are you?”

_“Yeah, we’re–”_ Static. Movement. _“– sorry. We’re fine!”_

“Noct’s with you?”

_“Yeah!”_

He breathed out, and didn’t let himself sag under the relief. “They’re able to have the train ready to go in an estimation of five minutes. We need to hold off damage until the engine’s running. Where are you?”

_“Already ahead of you! Handling it now!”_

Reflexively, he turned towards the windows he could feel the sunlight through. “In battle?”

_“Yeah– woah! Sorry, Iggy, I gotta go!”_

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Be careful. My next call will be when the train is ready.”

_“Thanks!”_

The line went dead, and Ignis swallowed the lump in his throat. Five minutes. They had held out in battle longer than that. They could do it.

A crash at the door sent him staggering away from it; crunching glass from the other side had him summoning his blades. They could do it. “Focus on the engine. I’ll handle the enemies.”

“Are you going to be okay??”

“Yes,” he said defiantly, and put his increased hearing to good use by determining position and movement before slinging the door open.

It was exponentially– no, a _lot–_ easier to be able to listen and react, rather than slashing blindly in the direction he thought best. He could hear their breathing. Their movements. The glass beneath his own feet and the smell of fried circuits when he slammed a blade into the armor. It wasn’t as easy as it had been fighting sighted, but it took him a minute and a half, two minutes, tops. He called it a victory and swept his hand through his hair as he ducked back inside the front.

“How are we?” He kept one blade in hand and a hand on the door.

“Just… a little longer… shit!” Another explosion, further off down the train. Ignis tensed as the vibrations ran through him. “What the hell is that?!”

It didn’t sound like the explosion from earlier, but he didn’t mention it. “Hurry,” he said softly instead, and his fingers seized around the door.

“Your friends are out there, then?”

He looked towards the conductor. “Yes.”

“And the king?”

He nodded. “Prince– King Noctis is fighting as we speak.” A glance towards the brightness pouring in through the windows again. “We are in good hands.”

“Huh. Yeah. I mean, if he’s out there to protect us, I trust that. Respect that. Better than him hiding up in here expecting someone else to do it, right?”

Quirking a faint, worried smile, Ignis said “Hiding anywhere hasn’t precisely been in Noctis’s repertoire. Unless he’s hiding from vegetables,” he added, and then wondered why he was telling the train conductor that.

It seemed to produce a distraction, at least. A small laugh from the conductor. “He’s not so different from us, then?”

“Not so different at all.”

Less different than they knew, or would ever know, likely. To them, Noctis was their king. They would never know the person that they as his friends knew. They would never know the person that _he_ knew.

“Aha! Here we go!”

Ignis was already pulling his phone from his pocket.

Prompto assured him they would jump back on the train once they took care of the remaining MTs, and Ignis was left to take it at face value that they would be able to. Noct would get them back on the train. He could move faster and more fluidly; Ignis had seen him in action over the past few months. That asides, he had his warping abilities. They’d get back on the train easily enough. He kept telling himself that.

Noct was more than capable. He kept telling himself that, too.

Gladiolus joined him first, however, even after the train had moved out from Eusciello. “Hey. No Noct and Prompto yet?”

“Not yet.” He turned his head towards him. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah. Just a scratch. You?”

“I’m fine.”

“What the–”

“What?” Gladio demanded, brushing past him.

Ignis went with him on reflex. “What is it?”

“Those soldiers’s ships. But they’re falling? On fire, like.”

“That explains where Noct’s at,” Gladio said. “Now we just need to figure out where Prompto is.”

“I’ll call again.”

But he didn’t answer this time, and neither did Noctis. Even when Gladio informed him that the magitek engines were long behind them, leaving them both in uneasy silence. Gladio went to search the rest of the train and, with nothing left to do up front, Ignis trailed after him. He was trying to contain the nerves, the fact that the adrenaline was still firing on all cylinders through his veins, but that was difficult to do with no idea where the prince and Prompto were. (He was still _prince_ to him. For now, until Noct accepted otherwise.) On top of that, Noctis’s blood was wearing off; his senses, dropping back to their usual, human levels, felt wrong after spending the day marveling in the difference. When Gladio came up behind him in the dining car, he nearly pitched forward off of the barstool.

“Just me.” He sank onto the seat next to him. “No luck. Nothing on your end?”

“No…”

“Well, I’m sure they’re fine. We’re almost to Tenebrae now, so we can try to regroup there. If not, come up with a new game plan, double back to find them.”

“Right.”

“And he’s got Prompto, if something’s wrong and he needs blood.”

That was good. Why did he suddenly feel so annoyed by the idea that Noct might be drinking from _Prompto_ , who was, all things considered, a _good_ alternative? He pushed it away. “Right.”

“They’ll be fine, Iggy–”

His phone started ringing, and he jerked it up to his ear from where he’d had it clasped in his palms. “Are you alright?”

_“Ignis! You gotta stop the train!”_

“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t afford himself the luxury of emotion at the moment. He would do that when Noct was in a safe environment, and not… wherever he was. Context clues provided he was still on the train, and the interference on the phone sounded almost like wind… outside, then. He needed to stop inferring, and wait for Noctis to speak.

_“It’s Prompto!”_

Ignis’s hand seized around the edge of the bartop. He hadn’t ever heard Noct say _anything_ in that kind of voice. He had seen him turn, and he had held him as he’d cried in Altissia, and neither time compared to the raw _emotion_ in his voice. Suddenly, the relief of hearing Noct was unharmed was overshadowed by whatever was about to be said next.

_“He fell off the train– I pushed him– Ardyn made me!!”_ His voice cracked. _“We need to go back–”_

“Calm down,” he interrupted, willing the panic away. Prompto _was_ alive, he had been the last time Noct had seen him. So long as he had survived the initial fall from the train, there was the likelihood he remained alive. Despite the blonde’s misgivings, he _could_ fend for himself, too. “I’m as concerned for Prompto as you are–”

_“No! You didn’t hear– I thought it was Ardyn– the_ things _I said–”_

“I understand, Noct, but right now, the main concern is the safety of the passengers–”

_“How is that the main concern?!”_

Ignis chose to ignore that. Both were equally important, but stopping the train here was too dangerous for the many lives that were relying on arrival to Tenebrae now. “We’re almost to Tenebrae. Let us drop off the passengers and then regroup–”

_“_ I’ll _go back!”_ Noct retorted– wailed, really, and if the effects of Noctis’s blood was still there at all, they turned to ice as well.

“Absolutely not.”

_“I can find him quicker– I should be able to smell him–”_

“Noct.”

_“Then we can all meet up in Tenebrae, once I find him…”_

“Noctis,” he said. A little more sharply, voice a little more urgent. “Given the Chancellor’s involvement, it’s likely he’s not where we left him. The best course of action–”

_“Fuck the best course of action! I did this, I have to fix it! I won’t have him hurt for me!”_

“Getting yourself injured in his stead will only complicate matters. He wouldn’t want–”

_“What about what I want?”_ Noct yelled. _“I don’t want another person hurt for me! I’m tired of people doing_ this _, their lives being_ destroyed _–”_

“If you get hurt,” he hissed, “that negates everything he stands for, everything _we_ stand for.”

_“Getting killed is not what Crownsguard stands for!”_

“It’s for protecting you! Let us do that–”

_“Protecting doesn’t mean_ sacrificing _yourself!”_

“Which is exactly what you’re trying to do now, putting your life in danger in exchange for his safety–”

_“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you!?”_

Another shock, like ice water thrown over his body. “I would do it all again,” he said, making a conscious effort to lower his voice. He could feel eyes on him, and not just Gladio’s. He was having an argument on the phone, in the middle of the dining car. His heart was racing. “And I would be by your side now, as I always have. I refuse to let you go alone.”

Silence. He clutched tighter at his phone and listened for _anything_. He thought he could still hear the wind. As long as he could keep Noct on the train until they arrived in Tenebrae…

“Noct, _please_.”

“Give me the phone,” Gladio said, and Ignis felt the displacement of air as he reached for it.

He shook his head and leaned back, twisting around as if for the illusion of privacy. “Noct. Don’t do this alone. You don’t have to do this alone.” Nothing. He licked his lips and braced his hand on his knees. “You promised you wouldn't leave me behind. _Please_ don’t do that now, Noct.”

_“… Fine.”_ If the noise that came from the other end of the line sounded like a sob, Ignis didn’t say.

“Thank you,” he said, weakly, instead. If he thought he had been dizzy with relief before, it was nothing compared to now. If he thought he had ever worried about Noctis before, it was _nothing_ compared to now. “Can you meet us in the dining car? Gladio’s with me.”

_“Yeah… are you… are you okay, at least?”_

“Yes.”

_“… alright. I’ll…”_ A pause, stretching longer still. Ignis was about to speak when the prince continued. _“I’ll be there as soon as I deal with these stowaways,”_ he said, and Ignis had to force himself to put down the phone when the line went dead.

Out of the frying pan.

“… the manor’s on fire.”

Ignis straightened up with a jolt, instinctively turning to the windows. For a brief moment, a very brief one, he was glad he couldn’t see the world burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes I forget how utterly _depressing _the whole last few chapters of the game are and it's even worse rewriting it... lol... some non-game downtime next chapter though! something to look forward to? :'D__
> 
>    
> also if anyone gets the reference in the summary i'll love you forever  
> 


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconnect

He had wanted to kiss him when he had showed up on the train. Likewise, he had wanted to strangle him, but he didn’t do that either. They had sat in silence the few remaining moments to Tenebrae, and had parted ways when Noctis had gone to speak with a retainer of House Fleuret.

“Is the manor badly damaged?” he had asked of Gladio, but barely heard the answer. It was conversation. It served to remind him of Ravus, and the conversation that _they_ had had back in Altissia. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Ravus, the vampire who had turned Noct, for no discernible reason than revenge on the former king of Lucis. He had meant to tell Noct, truly. But one thing had happened after the other, tragedy on top of hardship, combined with learning to deal with his own disability and the time had never been right. He had been wondering, of late, if he wanted to tell him at all. One more example of something bad happening. Right when the former prince of Tenebrae seemed to have switched sides, even. It didn’t matter if he knew. What was done was done.

And yet, it was the loss of Noctis’s humanity they were talking about. He did deserve to know. And if Noct ever found out that Ignis had known, and never told him, it would be more a betrayal than a logical way to decrease emotional turmoil.

He… had no choice, really. He never had. He was just postponing the inevitable.

Speaking of being postponed, while Aranea’s men _were_ willing to drive the train, it was still badly damaged from the attack. Multiple cars needed to be swapped, and the engine needed to be checked. They wouldn’t be able to leave until tomorrow, at the earliest, and Ignis tried to not let that fact make him anxious. He knew it would make _Noctis_ anxious.

He went to bed early, unable to stay awake any longer. He heard Noct slide into the bunk across from him at some point. Even later, or earlier, he supposed, he heard him leaving again. He propelled himself up on an elbow and waited for a sleepy, concerned moment. And then threw the blankets off and grabbed the cane to go after him. He didn’t believe Noct would leave, not on his own, not _now_ , but they had been afforded little privacy since arriving. If he could tail him long enough to find out where he was going…

An ambitious idea, given he was a blind man stumbling through Tenebrae, tired and confused, and Noctis was, ever so, a vampire.

“I was going to Luna’s field of sylleblossoms,” Noct said, dropping back to fall in line with Ignis. “But… I think it’s all on fire.”

“… I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know how much Tenebrae meant to you.”

“It meant more to her.”

To the Oracle, and Ravus both. Ignis glanced down at the prince, and steeled himself for the potential reaction he was about to get. He couldn’t put it off forever. “Noct, there’s something–”

“Fuck.” A whisper; a complaint he wasn’t meant to hear.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Noct.”

“Nothing.”

 _Frustrating_. Ignis huffed, very quietly, and reached over to rest a hand on Noctis’s cheek. But he took a step back instead of forward, purposefully letting Ignis’s hand fall into nothing, into the air, and the fact that he hadn’t touched him since he’d gotten back on the train after the attack wasn’t lost.

 _Ignis_ was worn out, and he wasn’t even the one who had shed blood in the days prior. Of course Noct needed blood for himself, after all of that. He pulled his hand back and fumbled with the neckline of his pajamas to offer. “I wish you’d ask instead of leaving me the guesswork,” he said, and was aiming for a joke.

It didn’t seem to be funny. “It hasn’t even been two days since I gave you mine.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t _shrug_ ,” Noct complained. His voice was directed up at him again. “It’s your humanity.”

“Yes,” he said. “ _My_ humanity.”

“You don’t want to be turned.”

“I don’t,” he agreed, “but–”

“I don’t want to accidentally do it and then have to live with _that_ guilt.”

Another reminder, like the tearful yelling Noctis had been doing on the phone. Ignis hesitated, and then reached out for him again. He stepped out of the way _again_ , but Ignis was determined. His questing hand bumped into his chest, and then moved to readjust on his shoulder. Noct was tense beneath his touch, which was saying more about his thirst than his words might. “Noct, I… I would do this all again,” he said, gesturing towards his own face. The blindness, the scars. “I would do anything to keep you safe. But, I realize, in trying to protect you, _I’ve_ been the one to hurt you all the same and, for that, you have my deepest apologies.”

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize–”

“But I don’t regret it,” he continued, speaking over him. “It has been difficult.” More than he would admit, but he wasn’t so proud not to admit it at all when they _all_ knew. “But I’m alive. _You_ are alive. That’s more than I could have asked for, back then. More than I hoped. That’s all that matters. I _don’t_ regret it, and neither should you.”

“How can I _not…_?”

He felt up to Noctis’s face, managing to rest a hand on his cheek, and then he leaned to prop the cane against the balustrade to do the same with the opposite. “Because I’m asking you to,” he said shortly. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Even if it’s not anytime soon, that’s fine. I don’t expect that. But one day. I want you to let go of that guilt. I am happy, Noct. I want you to be, too. That is all I could wish for. That, and your safety.”

Noctis’s breathing felt a little shaky, but maybe Ignis was imagining things. He didn’t have to breathe like normal humans, after all. “Never… never knew you to be one for flowery speeches, Specs.”

Ignis laughed softly. “Seems you bring out the best in me.”

“I… all we were talking about is how I didn’t want to turn you,” Noct said weakly, and Ignis tried to look reassuring.

“Yes. Well, you won’t.” He pressed a very light, fleeting kiss against his lips and pulled back. “It’s been long enough, I’m certain.”

 _“Are_ you?”

He weighed his response. “Certain enough to be willing to risk it, and you know I always think things through.”

“Yeah, right. If you… if you’re– wait, there’s people.” Noctis grabbed his hand.

“Are there?” Ignis took up his cane. “Lead on, then. Plenty of secluded places to be had, I’m certain.”

“You’re _reckless_ this morning,” Noct muttered, but led him back the way they’d come. “I ought to take you back to bed instead.”

Something reflexive flew to his tongue, tugged a smile onto his lips before he could stop himself. The words, however, he caught before he could say. Responding in kind with the type of remark he had just thought of was wildly inappropriate, given the circumstances and their location.

“You… did you just think something??”

Ignis bit the inside of his cheek.

“Something _dirty!?_ ”

He took a breath and smiled. “You’ll never have it out of me.” Perhaps he was overtired. Perhaps it was the stress. But he rather enjoyed their banter, and what better way to cope with the situation?

“Not cool!” The hand that was guiding him jumped to his shoulder, forcing him backwards into a wall, no– a crate? His hand rested lightly on the wood. There was the walkway railing behind him, too; he gripped a hand onto the stone for further support and looked back at Noct in time for him to kiss him. Fiercely.

Perhaps they were both overtired.

He propped himself up on that crate, one hip against it and one hip wedged against the decorative railing. There, he was free to slide his arms around Noctis’s waist and pull him in, and kiss him back the way he had wanted to when they had reunited on the train earlier, how he had wanted to kiss him since Altissia, trying to recapture the way his lips had felt when Ignis had stopped him from going too far in the weeks before Cartanica. The word that came to mind was _desperate._ He didn’t much like it, even if it was true.

“Drink, Noct,” he murmured, with open mouth kisses along his jaw. “Don’t be afraid.” Noctis caught his chin and tipped his mouth back to his. His fangs were already out, scraping his mouth even as he kissed him, stealing away his breath and strength and will. He caught Noctis’s lip between his teeth and bit down. _“Drink,”_ he repeated, and slid his hands down to grab his ass. Ostensibly, it was to pull him closer.

Noctis’s teeth were in his neck a moment later, and Ignis ignored his inhibitions and let himself gasp out a moan. Gods, he’d missed him. He’d been right next to him and so far away the past few weeks. In two different worlds again, meeting only in the early morning as they slept, the brush of fingers against fingers in passing, sitting opposite each other at dinner. Pecks of the lips here and there, aching in his body and bones he didn’t dare let himself focus on lest he fall into the pits of despair. Even if he and Noct had been worlds apart, Ignis had taken comfort Noctis still needed him as part of Crownsguard, if nothing else.

But Ignis needed _him_ , too. Noctis had told him to be selfish, once, and he didn’t think it still applied after Altissia. But…

Noct pulled away, all too soon. Ignis opened his mouth to question, or complain– he hadn’t yet even begun to feel the persistent weakness that came with each feeding– but his breath was stolen away by the prince’s blood covered lips. Lips and tongue and a fresh wave of blood, Noctis’s fangs unkind against his mouth. Ignis pushed into the kiss and made a noise, of question or desire or pain. He wasn’t certain which. He wasn’t certain it mattered.

He wanted to be selfish. Already half hard, hands moving up along Noctis’s body and taking in everything he could no longer see. Hips, waist, individual ribs. He wasn’t wearing the pajamas. He must not have changed. These clothes would be wrinkly come morning. A very light pinch to his skin in reprimand, and he continued upwards, hands over his collarbones and up to his face and into his hair. _“Drink,_ Noct,” he reminded, and when Noct pulled away there was blood trickling from Ignis’s mouth as well. He could handle the taste, the impending stomachache, and whatever else would come if it meant Noct was this close to him, breath hot on his face and hands roaming against his body.

 _Desperate_ was apt, he thought, and closed his eyes as Noctis trailed his lips to the other side of his neck and set to busily sucking a bruise instead. But it was _good_ ; adjectives need not apply. Especially when he could sweep his hands through Noctis’s hair, messy, bedhead from abandoned sleep, in need of a good brushing to free it from tangles. “Noct–” he started, again, but Noctis’s fangs slid into his throat again, drawing forth a twinge of surprise. A twin to the bite on the other side. The pang and the thrill flared up and settled low into his stomach. This time his gasp was barely audible, Noctis’s name, no– _Highness_ , falling from his lips like the blood rolling down his skin.

He moved forward a step, body pressed flush to Noctis’s ever cooler one. Hips moving forward, searching, half frantic and still sleep deprived. Now he could feel the energy leaving his body, chasing it down to the press of his pelvis into Noctis’s to coax it back, both of them choking into the pleasure. Ignis felt desperate. Noctis sounded it.

With renewed constitution, still chasing that spark that he was almost afraid to let himself think about, Ignis twisted his hand into Noctis’s hair and pulled him away from his neck. He went, with a garbled protest and the jagged ache of Ignis’s skin tearing open. He could feel the blood flowing freely. He pressed a hand over it briefly, hot and flowing and familiar, felt Noctis’s eyes and felt Noctis’s worry, no doubt about to ask if he was okay. He was. It was as warm and welcome as he had felt in weeks.

He took Noctis’s face in both hands. “I love you.” He said it very evenly, rationing his breath out for each syllable. Forcing the ache in his groin aside, his breathlessness and his blood. Terror, not unlike the last time, if not stronger now, seized him for saying the words again. His heart leapt and descended into the cold water below.

But Noct ever buoyed him back up, a single word catching him in freefall and halting his descent. “Yeah.” And then bringing him back up to the top of euphoria, all without a bite or a touch. “Love you too.”

Ignis beamed; his eyelashes felt wet. He hoped it wasn’t the case. He slid his hand down to Noctis’s neck and leaned in to resume the kiss.

He had a third bite, below the first, and a fingertip dripping with blood, when Noctis asked if he trusted him. Always. Unswervingly. When they folded to the ground, the cold of the cement leeching through his clothes. As Noct kissed blood away from his face and throat and hands, drawing a bead again here and there with a prick of his incisors, never enough to properly drink from him but tempt them both enough to make Ignis wonder when that kind of thing had become so thrilling. When Noct’s hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt and he– no, tensed up, a flip switched.

Noctis noticed immediately. His hands stilled at the small stretch of stomach beneath the pads of his fingers.

Ignis breathed in slowly, looking up at him, wishing he could _see–_

“It’s the scars, isn’t it?” Noctis asked quietly, and Ignis felt his stomach drop. A brush of Noctis’s fingers against his skin. Not exploring, not without permission. “Prompto told me, couple weeks ago. Don’t be mad,” he added. “He thought I knew.”

He forced himself to assent with a nod. “They’re unim–”

“Don’t say that.” He leaned down and dropped his lips against Ignis’s torso, over the press of his pajamas hiding the scars they were discussing. “They’re important to you. They’re… they…  don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he muttered, voice muffled by Ignis’s shirt. “But I get it, you know…”

Ignis briefly swept his hand over the scars along Noctis’s spine, able to be felt through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Humming as though he recognized the sentiment, Noct’s fingers very lightly swept against that strip of skin at his stomach and then vanished. “‘though all I need right now is your cock,” he continued, and sat back.

If the laugh came out a little choked, neither of them said.

“Trust me?”

 _Always._ “Yes.”

He ought to have protested, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was late. It was dark. He didn’t know where they were, precisely, but it was dark and cramped and undoubtedly secluded, and when Noct’s fingers inched beneath the elastic of his pajama pants to shuffle them down to his thighs, he couldn’t have protested if he wanted. Like too many fantasies, cool air on his skin, exposed, vulnerable. Gods, he wanted to let himself be. He reached up, searching, to curve his hand around the back of Noctis’s neck, pulling him down to kiss.

The crack of atmosphere as Noctis summoned something from the armiger. Ignis waited, breath caught in his throat, wondering. Then a hand closed around his cock, fingers cold and slick with gel, and Ignis jumped and laughed and whisked in a breath through aching lungs and apprehension. “You keep lube in the armiger now?” he asked, and threw a hand over his mouth for quiet a moment later.

“And condoms.” The prince was grinning. “Don’t want to be caught short.” He didn’t need to _see_ to know that. “Like now.”

“Surprisingly well thought out,” he murmured, and earned his own pinch to the hip back in rebuttal.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he supposed, scrabbling for a hold on Noctis’s hips when he was on top of him, body arching into the press of the prince veritably riding his cock. _Desperate_ kept crashing around in his head, but he ignored it, scoring ten points of pressure against Noct’s skin and fearing afterwards he might leave marks.

It didn’t stop Noct. It did little to deter him from it, either. Their rhythm was uncoordinated, messy. Noctis’s hands clutching at his shoulders and hair and meeting him halfway to kiss him with an almost ravenous distress, until they were both tipping over, breathing stalled. Noct collapsed on top of him afterwards. Ignis groaned at the additional weight and slung an arm around him, dropping his head back against the balustrade again.

He was tired and aching again, various points of pain from collarbone and above. There was blood on his hands, and neck, and face, and likely on Noctis’s, too. But the wave of contentment was bliss.

Until a surge of something so akin to anguish nearly startled him right off the ground, directly coinciding with Noct burying his face into his neck and Ignis hearing his breathing hitch.

“Noct…?”

“You’re so good, Iggy,” Noct murmured, smoothing a hand up his arm. “Don’t deserve you…”

“Ridiculous,” he replied shortly, and it was true. _I’m the one who doesn’t deserve_ you _._ He didn’t say. He held him close to his chest instead, as he caught his breath, and focused on the press of his weight and the cool, night air of Tenebrae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big eye emojis  
> also big puts face in hands


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... all the way to Zegnautus

Fielding questions had come in the morning following their semi-public shag, mostly because of the overabundance of dried blood and the fact that Ignis couldn’t recall who had gotten whom back to their compartment. All he knew was Gladio’s “what the hell happened to you two?” had woken him up, and he had pulled the blanket up to his chin to hide the evidence. Noct, of course, had initially barely stirred, and only then to complain about the noise.

He had realized, somewhat belated, that they had probably warranted that reaction. He couldn’t see what they looked like, but his blood– and Noctis’s too, when Ignis had gotten his own teeth into his prince’s lip– had been free flowing. Noct had confirmed that Ignis’s pajamas were probably ruined, and that they both needed cleaning up. And then he had started to lick at the dried blood on Ignis’s neck, lingering swipes of his tongue, and had sounded a little embarrassed when he mumbled “why waste it?”

Ignis had only been slightly disconcerted. How could he complain, when he had encouraged it all the night prior?

Necessity had Ignis out of bed much sooner than Noct would have liked and, if he were being honest, sooner than Ignis liked as well. It was much warmer in bed, he had realized, the closer they had gotten to the Gorge. He liked it _even less_ when the train came to a full on stop, and when they were forced to brave the snow and the Glacian’s corpse. He had never been fond of the cold. Although, for that matter, his favorite time of day had always been dawn, when he could watch the sun rise and feel the warmth of a new day on his skin, so when did the world ever take into account what they minded? Not at all, he thought sardonically, and methodically tossed a flask of fire towards what was assuredly a large enemy when Noct prompted him. The heat felt nice, but getting back in the train would feel better.

“Are you alright?” he asked, turning to look down towards Noct. “Did I burn you?”

“No.” A hand at his wrist, and then smoothing up the length of his arm. “I think I got you, though. Your jacket’s ripped.”

“Ah. Well, nothing a good mending won’t fix.” He hadn’t noticed if Noct _had_. He’d told him before, being achy wasn’t uncommon these days. He had learned to ignore it. Appearances, however…

“I’ll do it,” Noct said, and his hand fell away from the spot where the tear must be. “On the way. If you just–”

“If you want to stand out here and finger each other til your hands freeze to your bits, that’s your problem,” Gladio interrupted. “I’m going in.”

“I’m not _fingering_ him.” Noctis suddenly huffed, a snort of laughter through the arctic wind. “I did that last night.”

Ignis thought his mouth may have fallen open. Points to the prince for besting him that round. “Noctis Lucis Caelum,” he hissed.

“Ooh, full name.”

“You did _not._ ”

“Oh my God.” There was exasperation in Gladio’s tone, and… amusement. The tiniest bit of amusement. “I’m goin’ to check on Biggs and Wedge.”

Ignis did not roll his eyes, although the urge did strike him. “I’ll come.”

“Think you already did last night,” Gladio muttered, and both he and Noct burst into muffled laughter.

Why were they having this conversation on the train tracks, in the ice and snow, mere feet from the Glacian’s corpse? “Cheeky,” he commented, and elected not to comment on the fact his face was warmer than the rest of his body. “I’m _going_.”

Gladio was still chuckling as he caught Ignis’s elbow to guide him up the steps. “In _Tenebrae_ , though? _Now?_ Kinky, Ignis.”

Ignis hummed instead of replying, and tried to ignore _desperate_ again. He much preferred ‘coping’, despite if it hadn’t been the right time or right place. It was over and done, and it had been… he tried not to focus on the bandages on his neck, beneath the scarf he’d purchased at the trader’s in Tenebrae. If he did, he imagined he could still feel the throb of his pulse beating with arousal beneath the wounds… wonderful.

He smoothed his hands along his arms and waited for the blast of heat that should have come as they stepped into the train. It didn’t.

“What the hell…”

“Something’s wrong,” he stated.

“Everything’s iced over. Hey Noct! Get in here! Something’s not right!”

Ignis started forward. His footing slipped. There was ice on the floor. “I’ll go check on them,” he said, carefully going to check on their conductors. He had the layout of this train memorized by now, and no one on board to deter him.

“Ignis, wait– woah, _shit_ , it’s slippery.”

He didn’t wait on Gladio. He could find his way. Biggs and Wedge were soldiers, so he had no doubt they could handle their own, but they were also their engineers, and they _had_ to get to the Keep. Their safety was nearly as paramount as their own.

A cold blast of air knocked him off path, throwing ice into his face and snow down his shirt. He threw his arm over his eyes, felt a hand grab at his elbow.

“Iggy–”

“– wake up!”

He was opening his eyes to his familiar darkness. The wind had stopped. It wasn’t frigidly cold. He was… on the ground? Wait. He had lost time. What had happened? Where was–

“Iggy, you okay?”

He pushed himself up experimentally. His arm was smarting as though he’d fallen on it, the one he’d instinctively put up against the ice and cold, but he wasn’t actually injured.

“I’m fine. Noct?”

“I’m here.” Now that he listened, his breathing sounded unusually loud. Ragged. Was _he_ hurt? “I saw the Glacian,” Noctis continued, and before Ignis could even start to ask, added, “It’s okay, she’s gone now. It was– it was Gentiana.”

_Oh._ If he had met with Gentiana, then they had likely spoken about–

“Luna’s Gentiana?” Gladio asked. _“She_ was the Glacian this whole time?”

“Uh… huh.”

“Wow. That’s nice, really. Wasn’t like she could have helped us out before this or anything.”

Ignis reached out a hand, fingertips falling on Noctis’s knee. It was coated in a thin layer of wet ice. “Are you hurt?” he asked softly.

“I’m– I’m not. I’m fine. You guys should check on our drivers.”

If it sounded like an excuse for them to leave him alone, it… probably was. If he and Gentiana had had conversation, it would have– undoubtedly– turned to Lady Lunafreya. That wound was far too new, and Ignis could hear the pain in Noctis’s voice.

… a moment for privacy, then. “Right.” He was the first one to speak, and let Gladio help him back to his feet. He didn’t know where he’d lost the cane. He’d be reunited with it later, when Noct didn’t sound so close to breaking down in front of them. “Gladio?”

“C’mon,” he said, keeping a hand at Ignis’s elbow even if he didn’t need it. When the compartment door slid closed behind him, a heavy sigh, and half a groan. “Just what we need. After we left Tenebrae behind.”

“Let him–” _grieve_ , he meant to say quietly, but such anguish washed over him– like before, like last night– that the words got stuck in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Anguish and regret. When he sucked in a sharp breath, feeling perilously close to a sob, both of Gladio’s hands were on his shoulders. His eyelashes were wet.

“Ignis. What’s wrong?”

It felt like something had reached into his chest and twisted his heart. His lungs didn’t want to cooperate. He breathed in deeply once more, and then spoke. “I don’t know.” He passed his hands across his eyes. “Nothing. Apologies.”

“You’re not hurt?”

“No.” It hadn’t been that kind of pain. He shook his head, and patted Gladio’s hand. “I’m fine, thank you. Let us continue.”

“… alright.”

Residual emotions? He didn’t know. He would be glad when they got to Gralea, and left this train behind.

 

 

“The hell?”

He could hear the train screeching to a halt. Again. “What is it?” _What is it_ **_now_** _?_ But he didn’t say that out loud.

“My guess? Something to slow us down,” Gladio muttered, striding past.

Ignis shared an unseeing glance with the prince slouched against his shoulder, and then prepared to slide out of the booth. At this rate, he expected he would never want to set foot on a train again. Noctis urged him ahead and Ignis went, taking his cane to follow Gladio’s footsteps.

“We’re never going to get to Gralea at this rate,” Noct muttered, a hand at his back. “I knew that I should have–”

“If you’re about to say that you should have gone alone after Prompto, you are foolishly mistaken,” he interrupted.

“I could have _been_ there and back…”

“And taken the Crystal alone, to boot? We’re not having this conversation again, Noc–” Suddenly, he was flying sideways; all three of them exclaiming as the train lurched. His shoulder hit against the doors of a compartment. He very narrowly missed flying into the room by way of Noct catching his sleeve to pull him back.

“What now??”

“Woah…”

“What is it?”

“You don’t wanna know…”

Glass shattered; he suspected he was about to find out, regardless. As was on par with the rest of this train ride, he doubted it was going to be anything beneficial. He had stopped expecting it to be easy a few hours back. _Quite_ a few hours back, actually.

“Let’s do this– wait, what?”

“What is it?” he repeated. He felt like he was a broken record, and wondered if the feeling would ever pass. Now wasn’t really the time.

“What’s wrong?”

“The weapons– they’re stuck!”

The chatter and cracking of enemies, in front of them, Ignis reached for his weapons or his magic from the ether and… Noct was right. There was nothing. No magnetic pull of steel or elements to his fingers. It felt horribly bereft.

“Move!” Gladio ordered, and there was the sound of skin hitting something solid and the shriek of a creature. “Run!”

“There will come a point where we run out of room to run!” he protested. It was a good idea in the short term, but as far as fighting defenseless… wait.

“Do you have a better idea?!”

The car. “We trade the train for the Regalia! Make for the freight car!”

“Oh shit.”

“He’s right, come on! Iggy–”

“I’m fine, Noct, go ahead!”

Knowing the layout of the train notwithstanding, he knew he was still going to lag behind. This, he thought, as one of the creatures caught his ankles and he tripped forward before Gladio tossed it away, was even worse than the crush of people from before. At least they weren’t _willingly_ trying to deter you.

“Specs– seven o'clock!”

He tightened his grip on his cane and swung it around, and _down_ , as hard as he could, the thrill of adrenaline heightening at the crack of metal meeting a skull. So he wasn’t defenseless yet.

_“Damn.”_ Noctis sounded in awe– _why_ was he standing and watching?

“Move!” Gladio retorted.

Ignis was intent on following that advice as well.

“Here.” Noctis snatched his hand once they had all but fallen into the freight car, flinging the rear door of the Regalia open. He placed Ignis’s hand against the door for reference and then vanished from his side. “Strap in!”

“Right.” The Regalia. They hadn’t seen to her in weeks. He could no longer be relied upon to drive her, either. He would never drive again, that was certain… no, _not_ the time.

“Look out!”

He didn’t have time to react, half asides he had already tossed his cane into the back of the car. He had time to assume the warning was meant for him, as he was the only one without working eyes, and then…

A growl, sharp and guttural. A tearing noise, something dripping, and the sharp tang of blood. All within reaching distance. He couldn’t see, but he thought he imagined glowing eyes, terror in his veins and a lifeless body before him–

“Ged in de– fug’s sake– _fuck_ , get in the fucking car!”

He practically tumbled in, slamming the door behind him.

“Can you drive like that?” Gladio’s voice was nearby. Two doors slammed. His voice was wary.

“It’s just _claws_ , they’ll go in a minute. _Goddammit_.” The tires screeching brought him back, fingertips reaching for the window. It was ice cold. It helped to clear the shock from his mind. Forget being unable to drive. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t been able to see whatever it was Noctis had undoubtedly just done to protect him.

“Where are we now?” he asked quietly.

“In a tunnel. On the train tracks!”

“Iggy. You alright?”

Ignis took a breath. “Just fine–”

An explosion outside sent him ducking on reflex, hands flying from the window as he felt it fissure beneath his touch. Attacks from all angles. He gritted his teeth and clutched at his seatbelt and _prayed_ , if the gods were listening at _all_ , to get them to Zegnautus Keep alive. Complications asides– there was daemon blood on his clothes from Noctis’s attack– they were so close. And simultaneously so far.

Somehow they made it, the smell of smoke and fire and blood chasing them the whole way, until the Regalia’s engine spluttered out as they left their adversaries behind for now. The gods were merciful. Ignis breathed a sigh of relief as he crawled out of the car, and pretended his legs didn’t tremble when he stood up again. He was _fine_ , damn it. Stop dwelling on the past. Gods knew they had plenty to dwell on in the present.

Noctis’s hand touched his elbow, and he jumped. “Sorry,” Noct apologized. “Are you okay?” His nails were no longer sharp, voice no longer rough. Just the same old Noctis. His Noctis, his prince, His Highness.

Ignis nodded. “Yes, Noct, thank you.”

“I couldn’t help it, I just… ugh. I’m glad you’re safe,” he mumbled, squeezing his arm.

“Yeah, don’t count your chocobos,” Gladio hissed. “Are we _really_ going in there in there empty-handed?”

“As if we have a choice,” Noctis murmured, and his hand fell away from Ignis.

“Huh. No turning back now?”

“There never was. Right from the very beginning.” The prince breathed in slowly, and then exhaled in a rush. “Let’s go. But careful, there’s a lot of debris around here.”

“Right.”

Something was creaking. Above their heads, further up. Ignis looked up uneasily, letting the sound wash over him. Metal. Machinery. He wasn’t sure.

“This thing could fall at any minute.”

_Dangerous,_ his mind supplied, and it was all that mattered. They needed to go under, and it was dangerous. “Let’s be quick,” he said, and picked up his cane in favor of holding onto Gladio’s arm. It was easier, faster. He could pull him out of the way if need be.

He heard Noct go first, and then he started forward with cautious purpose to make for safety with Gladio. They barely got three steps before the creaking intensified; Gladio yelled and Ignis got shoved back. A deafening crash, and he was sent sprawling to his knees and scrambling away in case of flying debris. “Gladio?!

“I’m here!”

He raised his voice. “Noct?!”

“He– He already went through.”

Louder. “Noct!! Highness!”

Nothing.

“He probably can’t–”

“Wait.” He held up a hand, pushing himself to his feet. He thought he’d heard… He went staggering towards the wreckage, both hands feeling in the air in front of him. “Noct!”

“– gy!”

“Noctis!”

“Iggy, get away from there, it’s not safe–”

“Gladio?!” Noctis yelled.

Ignis could only barely hear him. “We’re here!” Noct could probably hear them so much better. “Are you hurt?!”

“No! Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine!” he yelled back, as Gladio took him arm and stopped him from moving any further forward.

“Can you guys get a signal?!”

Ignis felt for his phone, but Gladio called back before he could. “No good!”

A vague, muffled noise. And then more silence, for a moment. It was followed by… “I’m going on ahead!”

“No–”

“We’ll meet in the middle, find Prompto and the Crystal, and get out of here!”

Didn’t he remember what they had talked about about rushing ahead? Ignis opened his mouth to chastise the plan, but Gladio stopped him with a touch. “He’s got a point,” he said shortly. “We can’t get around this and he can’t warp over. Cover more ground and meet up in the center of the Keep.”

He wanted to grind his teeth. Of _course_ he knew it was a logical plan, tactically speaking. Especially given how long Prompto had presumably been here. But… Noct had no weapons save his vampirism… and it was dangerous… _and_ he had never let that stop _him_ , especially back in Altissia, so why should Noctis let it stop him? “… Very well,” he called shortly, and hated every word. “But _be careful!”_

“You, too! See you soon!”

Ignis felt like he ought to say something else, in parting, in warning, remind him to be careful again and take heed of his surroundings or… _more._ But he couldn’t find it in him to shout _I love you!_ over a pile of wreckage like it was the last time he might see him. He wouldn’t entertain that idea. And so he let him go, without another word.

One more prayers to the gods.

_Watch over Noct._

“C’mon, Iggy,” Gladio said, after a beat, and Ignis sighed, and relented again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started out so lighthearted too, didn't it *strokes chin*


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio, through Zegnautus

They were sheep being led to slaughter.

Ignis had that sinking feeling plaguing him as Ardyn continued to guide them meticulously throughout Zegnautus.

What, then, did that make Noctis? He wondered.

Having their weapons back was a small comfort. As he had told Gladio, he doubted Noctis had _his_ , and the place was swarming with daemons gone berserk. He ought not to have been surprised when he found the surveillance system down, and all of the recordings deleted, save one. He _was_ surprised when he heard Ravus’s voice, and then Noctis’s, and then decidedly _not_ Noctis’s.

“… What was that?” he murmured.

“Looks like Ravus finally got over his grudge.”

“That… wasn’t Noct, was it?”

“No. Just that scumbag Chancellor pretending to be him.”

Would Ravus have known? Surely. Noctis was part of Ravus’s blood, in the very most honest sense of the word; he would know him from anyone. But then again, it _was_ Chancellor Izunia they were talking about, man of one thousand mysteries. If anyone could fool a vampire about their own fledglings, it would be him.

“What was that?” he repeated, gesturing to the screen. “Tell me what happened.”

He had never told them, any of them, about what had happened in Altissia. He had mentioned, in passing, having met up with Ravus, but he had never told them the… _extent_ of his help. He had never told them that Ravus was a vampire. He would. He planned to. Noctis needed to hear it first, and the other two would learn afterwards. But…

“Uh, looks to me like Ravus outlived his usefulness to the Chancellor and he killed him for his troubles.”

“How?”

“What?”

 _“How,”_ he repeated, “did he kill him?”

“… dunno. Looks like he just cut off that arm and that did him in.” There was a frown in his voice. “Why’re you asking like that?”

Impossible to kill a vampire that way. Usually. He didn’t pretend to know all of the nuances of magitek technology, but… short of a stake to the heart or decapitation… perhaps he was still alive… but Ardyn would also likely _know_ that. What did he have planned…?

“Iggy.”

He dropped his hand. “Hm?”

“What do you know that I don’t?” he asked slowly, and had to be scrutinizing him.

Ignis shook his head. “Later. Right now, it’s imperative that we find Noct. If Ardyn did that to Ravus, there’s no telling what he’ll do to Noct.”

“Alright.” Gladio brushed past him, a hand dropping onto his shoulder. “But you’re going to tell me later.”

“Yes.” Find Noctis first, tell Noctis first, and then he would tell the others. _After_ they rescued Prompto, and _after_ they had secured the Crystal. When they had a moment, he would finally broach the subject. Until then…

He kept pace with Gladiolus for the most part, falling in step next to him as they listened to the broadcasts. He let him rush ahead to eliminate the enemies that came across their path, lingering back with cane and dagger in hand until they were able to lower the barricade to the Crystal and, furthermore, get themselves into a fight with a daemon unlike anything he had ever heard before. One that was hell bent on retrieving the Crystal itself.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He brushed his hand over his sleeve, and his fingers caught on the tear Noct had been talking about on the train. “We need to hurry.”

“What happened to slow and steady?”

“Slow and steady,” he said, sweeping the cane out in front of him. “But quickly,” he added, and started walking. “If it turns out that–” The lift jerked to life. He staggered into the wall. “– that what we’ve heard about the Crystal might even _possibly_ not be true…”

“Iggy.”

He sighed, tugging his glasses off. He knew what Gladiolus was going to say, even before he said it. “Apologies,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I need you at the top of your game. _Noct_ needs you at the top of your game.”

“I know.” He pushed his glasses back on, and straightened as the doors opened. “I’m being a poor excuse for an advisor, and companion. I worry now more than I ever did.”

“Yeah, right.” Gladio had the remarkable talent of sounding both annoyed and amused at once. “Like you’ve never worried this obsessively about him in his life. He has _fangs_ , Ignis.”

“I know.”

“He puts them in your neck regularly.”

“I _know,”_ he repeated.

“He tore apart that snaga in the tunnel to protect you.”

A sobering reminder. He inhaled slowly, focusing on the way the oxygen filled his lungs. Calm. The same old Noctis. “I know,” he said shortly.

“Huh, so this here– looks like some kind of loading bay.”

He wondered if the change in conversation was as obvious as it sounded. Either way, he took it. “Then there’s the high probability that the Crystal passed through here at some point,” he said, and allowed himself to rely on Gladio’s eyes to tell him what they were seeing again.

 

 

“Noct.” He stepped forward, crouching down to the prince’s level. He wondered if the relief was radiating off of him quite as loudly as it seemed. “Are you alright?”

“Y–Yeah.”

“You’re certain?” Sweeping his hand down the length of his arm, checking for injuries on his way to take his hand, he was stalled when his fingers ran over something cool and metal situated on Noctis’s third finger. The Ring of the Lucii. He had put it on.

“Just…” Noct grabbed at Ignis’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “Tired, maybe. Feeling sluggish. I need…” Whatever he had been about to say, he didn’t. “Well, we need to find Prompto first.” He straightened up, and Ignis sat back. “I can… I can smell him. His blood. So, we–we need to hurry.”

“Right.”

Probably he had been about to say he needed blood. He had put on the _Ring of the Lucii._ Ignis knew firsthand what kind of effect it could have. Even though Noctis _was_ ordained to wear the ring, they had all watched how the toll of it had affected Regis. Likely, with use, it would do the same to Noctis. How that would counteract with Noct’s vampirism, he didn’t know, but if he was straining under the weight of it now, his blood intake would have to increase as well. Maybe it would get easier. Maybe it would get more difficult. Ignis didn’t know. Only time would tell.

He helped him back to his feet and brushed the dirt off of his own knees. “Lead the way, Noct.”

“Yeah. Stay alert, there’s… more enemies around. I can feel them.”

He nodded, falling in line behind him. He could sense the disconnect between voice and emotions, the struggle behind Noctis’s words that likely wasn’t wholly due to the weight of the ring on his finger. Worried about that, worried about Prompto, worried about blood and bleeding. Ignis wouldn’t push him. They would talk once they had a chance to sit down and regroup.

“So you finally put on the Ring.”

Ignis looked at Gladio.

“What? Talk about it behind his back, he still hears.” Gladio was, likely, shrugging. “Might as well say it to his face anyway.”

Gladio’s honesty ranged from refreshing to exasperating, Ignis was constantly reminded.

“Not like I had a choice,” Noctis muttered. He paused at a divide and then went right. They followed. “No weapons and endless enemies.”

“Teeth and claws, though.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to do that, do I?” he said quietly. “If I never… I don’t _want_ to use those. Back on the train was enough, and that was just… I couldn’t _not_ …”

Gods, Ignis wanted to think about that as much as it sounded like Noct did. “Besides,” he interrupted smoothly, “I imagine using fangs on MTs is a touch more difficult.”

“Still,” Gladio said. “You’ve got a weapon, having been turned. Don’t neglect it.”

“Easy for you to say…” He inhaled sharply, and his footsteps stopped.

Ignis prepared to reach for his blades. He needn’t have.

“Prompto…”

Three steps, and then the displacement of fast moving air and silence.

“Noct! Hey!” Gladio groaned. “I didn’t mean use your damn super speed! Come on,” he said, and Ignis took off after him.

“Prompto. Hey! Prom! You with me?”

“Noct…”

“Hey.” Noct was already tugging at what were assuredly restraints when they arrived. “You okay??”

“Are you hurt?” Ignis stepped forward. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” Prompto whispered. His voice was hoarse. Ignis summoned a bottle of water from the Armiger. “Thank you… guys. Heh… you all look so… _concerned. …_ you weren’t worried about me?”

“Of _course_ we were. What kind of question is that?” Noct was frowning.

Ignis opened his mouth to speak, to reassert what Noctis was saying; of _course_ they were worried. They had all been worried. How could they not be? Usually it was Noct in trouble, Noct making choices that made him grind his teeth in worry, but that moment of terror when Noctis had said his name over the phone… “Prompto…”

“Of course… so that’s why you came. Like I thought you would… That’s why I told myself I couldn’t die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I’m not a fake– that I’m the real me. That I’m not… well… it’s not important.”

“It’s you, of course it’s important.”

“It’s nothing, Noct…”

“Alright… I’m sorry it took us so long, Prom…”

“Don’t be. Everything’s alright now.”

Ignis stepped forward to crouch down next to him. He offered the bottle of water. “Are you certain that you’re alright?” He could say he was fine until he was blue in the face, but that asides, Ignis was worried about what Ardyn had _said_ to him. The Chancellor did have such a way with words.

“Yes… thanks, Iggy… Gladio, I’m really fine, it’s just a scratch…”

“I can fix it,” Noctis said. “Let me just give you my–”

“No!” The bottle bounced to the ground. Ignis felt Prompto pitch backwards and Noctis make a noise of surprise. “No, I don’t want your blood, Noct, I…”

“It’ll _help_ , I know you’re hurt at least a little–”

“No,” Prompto repeated. “I don’t… I mean… thank you. For being willing… to do that for me… but I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Not when I’m not hurt badly enough…”

“Prompto–”

They were all so sacrificial. Anything for Noctis, and Ignis understood it too well. He was quiet for a moment, and then felt for a potion to hand over. “Drink this, at the very least. We’ll stay here until you do, otherwise.”

“Fine…”

It did serve to heal up Prompto’s physical injuries, whatever all they may have been, and got all four of them back on their feet. Noct and Ignis at his elbows, Gladio hovering at his shoulder. And then it got them back moving, slowly at first, wary, and then, as Prompto started to ask more and more questions about what had happened in the meantime, slightly more relaxed as they went.

They were back on track to their ultimate goal. The Crystal was nearby. Ignis could feel it. He could tell Noctis could, too.

He reached over to take his hand.

“Almost there, Specs,” Noct said quietly.

“Yes.”

“This’ll all be over soon. Finally.”

“What will we do with the peace and quiet?” He meant it like a joke, but it really wasn’t. _He_ was ready for peace and quiet himself. Hopefully they– and more specifically, Noctis– would be afforded downtime before his royal duties began. He still had a long road ahead of him, but hopefully finding the Crystal would ease his burdens for now.

“God yeah. Me and you are gonna go on vacation after this is over.”

Ignis smiled, amusement flickering to life in his veins. “A vacation?”

“Yeah. Not a road trip, though.” He bumped Ignis’s hip. “Just you and me, staying in. Sleeping all day.”

He might have been properly grinned at that. It was nice, after the onslaught of stress. “And partying all night, I suppose.”

“What?” He was receiving a _look_. “No. Sleeping all night, duh.”

“Sleeping all day _and_ all night?” Ignis sighed, mock exasperated. “Noct.”

“Maybe some other stuff in bed, too.”

A raised eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Now Noct was undoubtedly smiling. “Maybe.” He pressed a kiss against Ignis’s shoulder; there was relief so strong emanating from him that Ignis thought he could truly feel it himself.

Maybe he could.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, and slipped his arm around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what if nothing ever went wrong in this story from now on
> 
> what if


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past.

They, Ignis thought, ought to get some sleep.

They were curled into one of the bottom bunks in the Keep’s dormitory. Or more like curled into _each other_ , Noctis stretched out top of Ignis’s chest in the small expanse of given room. Their lodgings– sleeping quarters, in this moment– seemed to keep getting smaller. Not that Ignis minded; the prince was a pleasant weight atop him, hands resting against his chest. Eight different bunks and they ended up in the same one. Of course they did.

Well, as he’d said. He didn’t mind.

They had found their way back to the dormitory, on account of letting Prompto rest, rather than have him running on adrenaline and potions. And their arrival to Zegnautus had been rough to begin with; that, more than anything, seemed to prompt the blonde into taking a break. He had fallen asleep mostly upon his head hitting the pillow.

Gladio had sprawled out in the bed directly next to him, and as for himself and Noctis, they had settled in together shortly thereafter.

Sleep had not been quick in coming. Especially when Noctis had, tiredly, at first, pressed a few kisses along his jaw. Ignis had graciously leaned into the touch, and sleep had been a hopeless endeavour after that. Lazy kisses and idle conversations, muttered “I’m glad you’re safe”s and entwined fingers.

The cold press of the Ring of the Lucii passing against Ignis’s bare hand made him shiver.

Noctis frowned. “Are you cold?”

“No.” It was impossible to be. Maybe Noct didn’t run at ninety-eight, but the press of his body over the top of his didn’t let him catch a chill regardless.

“It’s drafty. I think.” Noct’s hands swept up his arms, and down over his chest again. “There’s blankets, over there, if you want to go to sleep now.”

They ought to, he kept thinking. “Not just yet,” he said instead, and tilted his head up to coax Noctis into a languid kiss.

He lost himself in the press of Noctis’s skin, seconds slipping into minutes as the fluorescent light above shone ever on. Gladio and Prompto were asleep in the other bunks. Gladio snoring. Prompto’s slightly nasally, regular inhales and exhales. They nearly matched Noctis’s breath against Ignis’s face, except the prince’s breathing was slower, and more shallow for consciousness. Hands loving against Ignis’s body, bracing against the bed as he kissed down Ignis’s chest. They had changed from their bloodied clothes, supplies pulled from the Armiger; dinner eaten, fatigues switched out for more comfortable, cleaner clothes. Noctis’s lips were gentle over his t-shirt. Over his scars.

Ignis squirmed, ever so slightly, and then made a decision. It hadn’t even been two days since he had stopped Noctis from investigating them with his hands, however unintentionally he may have stopped him. But if Noct could put on the _Ring of the Lucii_ , then Ignis could share the scars he had taken from it himself. Not that he could share that that was the cause of his scars, but all the same.

Plus, he didn’t like being hindered by his own insecurities. They were just scars. Noctis had his own, and Ignis thought they were beautiful.

“Noct.”

“Huh?”

Resolve didn’t stall the wave of trepidation. He urged Noctis back enough to sit up, and then pulled his shirt up and over his head in one hasty movement. It didn’t stall the insecurity at all, the _anxiety_ , but he didn’t let his shoulders droop in the face of Noctis’s gaze. He did, however, drop back onto the mattress with a soft _thwup_ , head tilted in Noctis’s direction.

“Iggy, you…” A pause. Not long. Not enough for the jitters to crawl up his spine. _Relax._ “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, very slightly. “I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t wanted to.”

“But still…” Noctis’s hand against his chest felt like fire, and Ignis sucked in a small breath before he could stop himself. “Do they still hurt?”

He shook his head. “All healed. As healed as they’ll ever be,” he amended, and shivered at the brush of fingertips over his pectoral. Noctis’s hand felt hot, and Ignis’s body was now freezing, gooseflesh rising on his skin. It _was_ cold. Or was that just the nerves? _By the Six, relax._

“You said… back in the mine, you said being achy wasn’t uncommon. Is that… _do_ they really not hurt, or are you just saying that to persuade me?”

It was a little bit of both, if he were being honest. “It depends on the weather,” he admitted. “And the temperature. Cold and damp seems to set off… everything.” Lingering pains from his injuries, body throbbing and face aching. Hot baths were the best course of action, those days. He hadn’t had one of those in awhile, not since leaving Altissia. That had been when he had only just been acclimatizing to the aches and pains in the first place.

“Jeez, then put your shirt back on, it’s cold _here.”_

“It’s fine.” He closed his hand over Noctis’s, and huffed a self-deprecating laugh when he tangled their fingers together. “I was always under the impression that you were strong, right from the very beginning. Although now I confess the magnitude of _sharing_ seems to be more difficult than even I suspected.”

“Ignis…”

Whatever Noctis was about to say, Ignis interrupted. “I love you.” Unspoken was the _I trust you_ , which went hand and hand, and needed to be said even less.

Noctis was equally quiet, for a long, long moment. It was slightly less nerve-inducing, although Ignis was still trembling minutely. He hated it. “I know,” Noct murmured. “Thank you…” His lips pressed very lightly over one of the scars on his chest. Ignis’s breath caught, and then exhaled in a very slow, calculated move. His chest was aching. In a good way. The press of Noctis’s lips, warm against imperfect skin. “I love you too.”

His breath hitched again. He folded his arm over his eyes. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion he hadn’t expected, and didn’t dare look at Noctis in case he worried him. He needed to get ahold of himself. But only in a moment. Now was too raw, too emotional, Noctis’s lips passing so lovingly along his injuries.

If they were both being raw, and open, then it was best to go the whole way. Suddenly, he felt compelled to explain things he had only ever explained to one person– Gladio, upon joining the hunters. Raw and open. Noctis deserved it as much as Ignis suddenly _ached_ to share it.

“I never told you why I became a hunter.”

Noct made a noise in the negative. It seemed like most of his attention was still arrested by nosing along Ignis’s chest. He didn’t know if it made it better or worse, to try and speak over that.

“Believe it or not,” he started lightly. The background didn’t matter, but he may as well. “The Scientia family actually hails from Tenebrae.”

Now he had his attention. Noctis looked up, hands framing his shoulders. “What? You… never said–”

He raised a hand to stop him before he could even begin. “My uncle told me that I spent time there as a very young child, but I don’t recall. I cannot feel its destruction as keenly as you’re worrying about. This attack was... devastating,” he murmured, “but I’m as much as outsider as everyone else is during this tragedy.”

Noctis was still frowning. He could tell. Ignis smoothed a hand over his shoulder and continued.

“Lucis is my home, Noct. Insomnia is my home. My father was from Duscae. My mother and I moved there when I was young, and lived comfortably for a time. I still don’t remember it,” he said, as Noct folded his arms on his chest and rest his head on them. “They say your long-term memory doesn’t start until ages three and onwards, which is… rather unfortunate, all things considered.” Fingers pressed into Noctis’s skin. “There was an attack, when I was three. A vampire attacked and drained my mother in front of me.”

There was no easy way to say it. There never had been. He could still remember, in perfect clarity, watching her die. Everything before that, and after, remained to be a blur, but he could still remember her face, and the blood, and the glowing eyes. Trauma was a curious thing that way.

Noctis had gone still.

“My uncle saved me,” Ignis continued shortly. “Just in time, I’m told. My father was incapable, at the time, numb with grief, and so he brought me back to Insomnia with him, and raised me as though I were his own son. And, of course, three years later, I met you,” he finished, and again rubbed his hand down Noctis’s back. He was tense, muscles knotted beneath his fingers. “Noct?”

“Iggy, you… that… is that why you went weird, back– back at the train? When I–” He stopped. _“Shit,_ I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“Of course you didn’t,” Ignis interrupted. “In addition, you were protecting me. You just happened to… startle me.”

 _“Scare_ you. Remind you, I–”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted again. “You protected me. Thank you for that, by the way. You would never hurt me. It’s over and done.”

“But it’s _not–”_

“It is,” Ignis said gently. “I will always trust _you_.” He paused, and then continued. “But you’ll understand why I’ve never been able to trust vampires at will.”

“Of _course.”_

“It wasn’t until recently that I realized my own faults in that line of thinking. There’s… no pleasure gained from killing someone who used to be human, but at least I could prevent it happening to someone else. And then you were turned.” And everything he’d _thought_ he’d known had been selfishly subject to revaluation. “And I started to realize that, perhaps, justice _should_ be blind. Just because someone was a vampire… didn’t necessarily make them evil in nature. It… has taken me too long to realize that,” he admitted.

He loathed that fact every day. And he loathed that he still couldn’t stomach the idea of unknown vampires without the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach, the anxiety skittering across his skin. But he wouldn’t kill blindly. Not anymore. He supposed that was progress. A very slow progress, ripe with all the learning experiences he hadn’t been willing to accept before. Things he had been taught not to accept, either, having been told tales of every vampire attack and subsequent hunt since he was young.

But even King Regis had, evidently, been willing to show mercy. Cid had said that he never went in swinging if he could help it. So, Ignis had been… very prejudiced, and very much in the wrong. How had it taken until he was twenty-two to start understanding it all?

“We were taught to hate them,” Noctis muttered. His hands crept forward, framing Ignis’s face. “Even me… even when dad wasn’t as deadly a hunter as I thought… even if you want to be open to things, it’s just… what we grew up with, right?”

“It doesn’t make it right.” Ignis trailed his fingers along his spine. “But I suppose the important thing is accepting what we couldn’t before. Trying to better ourselves. Trying to be more open-minded. _You’ve_ already proven me wrong,” he said. “You’ve taught me much more than I could see regarding your kind. I mean–”

“My kind,” Noctis agreed quietly. “It’s true. I… I’m working on it, too. Still.” Ignis folded his hands in the small of his back. “I mean, thought drinking blood would be the weirdest thing to get used to but I never had the chance, it’s just… _good._ But it still feels weird to say that. Like, I shouldn’t be. ‘I like blood. I _drink_ blood,’” he added. “I’m a vampire.” He went quiet for a moment, and then laughed, very softly, as he turned his face into Ignis’s chest again. “Yeah, still feels weird. Still makes my stomach hurt. But I am. A vampire. Have to… have to learn to change, right? Accept things, like you said. Be our best selves.”

Ignis had wondered, since the very first day, how their prince was dealing with the new identity. The struggle, he figured, had never been his to pry about. If Noctis wanted to talk about it, he would; he never had. But Ignis hadn’t been unknowing of the fact that Noct had had trouble with the word– _vampire–_ for awhile, how he still didn’t fight _as_ a vampire did. But it was in the moments where he let his fangs out and his claws sharpen, usually in bed, when the bites were unplanned instead of necessity and he raked his fingers against Ignis’s scalp– when he _laughed_ during all of that, eyes lit up with humor and stunning pink… those were the moments Noct was most at ease with himself.

Ignis was glad to see it. He was glad Noct was getting his own form of acceptance. Self-assurance. He deserved it. If he helped Noct to get there, just as much as Noct helped _him_ to change his prejudice, then he was a happy man.

They were learning together, always.

“We’re well on our way,” he said, craning his neck to kiss his forehead.

“Yeah.” Noct leaned in– and whatever action he may have been about to take was deterred when Ignis shivered. It was admittingly chilly, half naked. The prince made a noise, and the familiar fabric of Ignis’s own t-shirt was pressed into his arm. “Put your shirt back on, jeez. I’ll…” Two fingers traced along one of the largest scars, extending over his shoulder. “I’ll memorize these later. All of them. When we’re out of here.” Then he leaned down to kiss that same one before sitting up. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

He sat up to put his shirt back on. “You’re not sleeping?”

“Nah. Someone has to keep watch and, besides, I couldn’t sleep with you, anyway. We’d never manage that way.”

If only space wasn’t limited, but he had a point. He held out his hand for the blanket, and felt for Noctis’s hand. “The Ring,” he said gently, and made a point to keep the trepidation out of his voice. “If your wearing it causes a need for blood, tell me before I sleep, Noct?”

“… No.” Noct rest his fingertips against the back of Ignis’s hand, and pulled away. “Not yet. I’m okay, for now, and I don’t want to exhaust you while we’re here anyway.”

He knew the kind of burden the old kings could place. What Noct felt, compared to those not of his blood did, he didn’t know. But even still, it wasn’t an easy burden to bear. And that was _without_ needing blood to get by.

“I’ll let you know, though,” Noct continued. “If it gets bad.”

“Good.” Ignis shook out the blanket, and settled back with it pulled atop him. “Don’t take all of the burden onto yourself. We’re here to share the load, if need be.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I mean… really. Thanks.”

He got the vague impression that they weren’t only talking about just that. Ignis smiled and looked towards him. “Thank _you_ , Noct,” he said in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all were asking for some peace, yeah? Enjoy fingerguns


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revelation

“Is that… Ravus?”

“O–Or… what’s left of him…?”

“Damn it…”

He may not be able to see what the others did, but they had only just finished off with the remains of what had once been Emperor Iedolas– the Emperor turned daemon, that was, and now Ravus sounded the same. Clearly Ardyn’s plans for the High Commander had been followed nonetheless…

Noct took up arms, and he was about to fight his own sire without even knowing it.

He should have told him. He should have told him _weeks_ ago. Ignis summoned his blades. Out of time; he was out of time, and still keeping secrets. “Exercise due caution! He’s a vampire!” he called, and felt three pairs of eyes swivel around to him.

“Wait. No.” Noctis. “He’s not–”

“Trust me, Noct, he _is–_ ”

“I’d be able to–”

_“Highness,”_ he said sharply, and barely moved out of the way as Ravus blew past. He… would be no match for a vampire, in this state, barely able to fight at all. “Gladio, fighting maneuvers–”

“Already on it, Iggy! Watch yourself!”

“Right.”

He really was no match for Ravus, in this state or any other. He wasn’t certain that he got any good, real hits in, but he did manage to dodge enough; feeling the incoming presence at the last moments, hearing the growls in the split second before he charged to dodge out of the way or throw his daggers up. Prompto’s gunshots almost drowning out Noctis’s confusion: “But I still can’t tell… _why_ can’t I tell–”

Sires and fledglings had a bond that Ignis couldn’t begin to understand, but in sharing that, seemed that the sire could hide it at will as well. Ravus had been hiding it. Even when they had met for the first time after the subsequent turning, Noctis had been _ill_ under the face of his presence, something that Ravus must have been testing him with all that time ago back at the imperial base. It had never been a physical fight Ravus had been after. It had been… _inspecting_ him, and Noctis hadn’t known then, and he still didn’t know now.

At least he didn’t appear to be ill now, but then, Ravus likely didn’t have the mental acuity _to_ test him again. Just enough sanity left to beg for it to end, and for it to end by Noctis’s hand.

“You can’t tell because he didn’t want you to know,” Ignis said, pushing himself back to his feet. The telltale sign of Noctis warping had come moments prior, a lull in swords clashing and the growling of the prince’s possessed sire in the loading bay. “You’ve been under his influence.”

“What _kind_ of influence?” Noctis retorted, but the battle took up immediately again, and again Ignis found himself picking himself up off of the ground, staggering and confused for the activity. He would never hunt again. Not effectively, not with vampires. Normal bounties, those were manageable; this was not, as far as he was concerned.

That chapter in his life, well and truly over.

It was frustrating. He hadn’t precisely wanted to go back, at all, but he would have liked the capability to if he _had_ wanted to. He would learn to fight effectively again, he was certain. But vampires were mostly silent, and deadly quick; Ignis relied on his remaining senses now more than ever, _and_ his reaction time had gone down. He would never be as good of fighter as he was once. It was just something that he was going to have to accept.

Knocked down for the third time, world spinning, in desperate need of a potion as he tried to get back to his feet, it was a harsh reality. Almost as harsh as the current predicament in general.

Noctis’s hand landed on his back. A potion pressed against his lips. Ignis swallowed a mouthful, and spoke. “Don’t fret over me, I’m fine–”

“Just accept the help, alri–” Now it was Noctis’s turn to gasp, pain choking the tone of voice with a strangled cry.

Ignis felt him fall to bended knees next to him; subservient. Perhaps Ravus had enough mental clarity to exert his dominance, after all, or maybe it was the daemons provoking the influence.

Ignis half dropped into a crouch in front of Noct, a dagger held aloft as if he would be able to parry a blow. “Noct. Listen to me. You need to fight that.” Little chance, that, fighting a sire’s dominance, and especially when Noctis was so young and Ravus’s powers were, likely, amplified by whatever the empire had done to him. “He can’t do it to you, Noct.” He could. He was.

“What–” Noctis made a strangled noise, hands dropping to the cement. “Fu–”

_“No,”_ Ravus ground out, and Ignis’s hair stood on end. _“No… not… he’s… I_ refuse _… to let him… be_ killed _… for–”_

The swipe of a metallic limb came as expected; Ignis went tumbling backwards, knocking into Noct and sending them both sprawling even as Prompto and Gladio rushed forward to distract Ravus.

_“Shit…”_ Noct swore. “Ignis–”

“You’re okay,” he replied, reaching to touch Noctis’s face, and then straightening in front of him again. Arm extended protectively, looking towards the sounds of growling and breathing and battle. “Ravus. _Please._ You can fight this as much as Noctis can. You don’t have to do this. If you’re still in there, and I know you are, _fight it,_ Ravus. Not today. Not him.”

_“I… am not… do not…_ kill _…”_

“Uh, Iggy, don’t think it’s working!” Prompto yelled.

_“... own blood. The King–”_

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Gladio retorted. “‘Own blood?’”

_“Noctis,”_ Ravus commanded, and Ignis’s eardrums _ached_ with the strength of a sire blood bond. He wasn’t even the vampire. Noctis made a strangled noise next to him, doubling over. “ _End it.”_

“What’s happening?!” Noct was panicking. Ignis could feel it, and he didn’t blame him in the least.

“He is your–”

_“Now!”_

Ignis flinched under the weight of the command himself; at his side, Noctis jerked forward as if pulled on a string, and Gladiolus swore from nearby.

“Iggy– get back, they’re… Ravus really is a vampire.”

“Yes,” he said shakily, allowing Gladio to help him to his feet. As if there was any doubt. “I’m not certain Noct is any match for him. Prompto,” he said, raising his voice over the growling circling them in the bay, “you’ll need your silver bullets. Both of you help me time up Blizzara so that Noct is clear– he can’t listen to us, right now– and then, Prompto? Don’t miss.”

“Right…”

“Gladio–”

“Follow up with a stake to the heart while he’s slowed down,” Gladio said, hand at Ignis’s elbow. “Got it.”

“Wait,” Prompto said. “What do you mean by ‘Noct can’t listen to us right now’? Why?”

Ignis summoned up an orb of ice, and tilted his head towards the sounds of battle again. “He’s under Ravus’s dominance.”

“His… dominance?”

“Wait a second…”

“Oh! Iggy, straight ahead, now!”

“Make it count!” he ordered, and threw the orb of ice straight ahead.

Noct could probably stand a chance against Ravus; it would be, technically, a fair enough fight. Ignis didn’t know when the former prince had been turned, but he didn’t expect it had been long before Noctis’s own turning. But Ravus _was_ Noctis’s sire, not to mention had daemon blood and magitek technology. He didn’t want this to continue longer than necessary. Noct was going to end up hurting regardless, betrayed by the fact that Ignis had known, and he had not.

A shriek, and growling, the same kind growling from the train tracks, from when he was three years old– “Noct?!”

Gunfire. The sound of overpressure rounds from Ignis’s left.

A guttural noise of pain– _agony_. Anger.

Gladio yelling as he charged forward.

Ignis wished he could _see_ –

He shook the thought away.

It wasn’t necessary, anyway. The ice had slowed Ravus down. The gunfire had hit its mark, and, moments later, Gladiolus’s blade to the heart was proven by a stomach wrenching scream, ice down Ignis’s spine from a gurgling, choking rasp as Ravus lay dying.

He took it back. He was grateful he couldn’t see. He didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to see Ravus given this fate, killed in conjunction by the man he had created– the man he had turned, and regretted turning. He didn’t want to know what kind of look was on Noctis’s face, had already heard and felt the panic in his veins–

Noctis cried out, and Ignis was jerked out from his thoughts.

“Noct!”

There was no coherent speech in reply; only a noise of agony as great as had come moments prior from Ravus himself, and Ignis staggered forward to find the prince of Lucis. “Noct? Highness. Are you hit?” He dropped down next to him, flanked by Prompto, and felt for his arm. He caught the curvature of his spine instead, neck and hair; Noctis was doubled over again, hands clutching at his own chest, panting.

Still no answer.

“Prompto?” Ignis asked instead.

“No! I didn’t hit him, I know I didn’t, he’s not… not really injured or anything, just bites and scratches, I think–”

“Ravus was the one who turned him,” Gladio said. His voice was flat, and Noctis tensed beneath Ignis’s hand.

“… yes,” Ignis said softly. “He was his sire.”

“Wha– why??” Prompto said. “He– I thought he was helping us! A little. Maybe??”

Ignis shook his head. He knew, but…

“He’s feeling the effect of that, then,” Gladio said, after a beat of silence. “His sire dying. They always feel it, sure it’s made worse by being here with him. You remember this?”

“Ah…” He had forgotten, or never had any real need to remember. It was logical, though. A piece of the fledgling died when their sire did; of course they felt the effect of the loss. Noctis having a direct hand in it likely did make it worse. Or perhaps it was how young they both were, in terms of being unaging, or perhaps effects of the daemon blood and the injuries Ravus had gotten in before they had managed to deliver their mercy. Perhaps it didn’t matter at all; Noctis was wheezing, and there were tears rolling down his cheeks.

Ignis thumbed them away. Noct made a strangled noise and curled over further, out of reach.

“Noct…”

“Heads up, we got company.”

Ignis raised his head needlessly. He could feel the enemies converging from the shadows, hisses and murmurs at the smell of blood in the air. Noct was, in whatever way, still injured. “We need to withdraw,” he said quickly, and slipped a hand beneath Noctis’s elbow. “Until Noct catches his breath, another fight will have us at a severe disadvantage.”

Noctis didn’t protest. Maybe it was that he still couldn’t.

Gladiolus, however, was about to. Ignis could sense it in the way he moved, blade still held aloft. “Our priority is securing Noct a path to the Crystal,” Ignis reminded. “He’s not able to reach it in this state. As soon as he’s back to himself, we continue, but not until.”

“I know, don’t need to pull the master tactician shit out on me, Iggy.”

He couldn’t smile. Not now. “Can you get him? I don’t believe he can walk just yet.”

“Yeah. I got him.”

Ignis stood, automatically reaching for Prompto’s arm to allow him leave to guide him out. He heard Gladio bodily heft Noctis up from the floor, up into his arms, and only heard the slightest protest for it. Mostly it was tiny breaths of air, almost silent gasps of oxygen that were barely necessary, and anxiety and misery alike in Ignis’s veins.

“Let us retreat before others arrive,” he said.

“This way,” Gladio said, and Ignis swallowed the bitter taste on the back of his tongue and followed after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it rude to link the tv tropes page for Poor Communication Kills here... it is... oh... I'll see myself out...
> 
>  
> 
> really, there's explanations but seeing as how that's a large part of upcoming stuff, I won't get into that right now. needless to say, these boys have to _talk_


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empty

The loading bay wasn’t precisely the ideal place for safety, but backtracking to the sleeping quarters would have take more time and energy than they could spare. So they had taken shelter in the midst of all of the forgotten cargo, nestled in a space between several different shipping containers. Gladio had gone to watch the front, Prompto had offered to take the back, and Ignis was left to fold himself to the ground, Noct held securely up to his chest as the prince slept fitfully.

Ignis tried to doze off, too. It was less successful, all too aware of Noctis’s labored breathing and the unhappy feeling dragging his own limbs down, but keeping his mind alert. He wondered how he was meant to explain this, when Noct asked. He was very aware that he could not, but the ideas continued to swirl nonetheless. He had no excuse. He had _plenty_ of them, and none, either. The truth, then, when Noctis woke up.

By the time he did, Ignis was no more willing to face that truth– that he had been _weak_ , indecisive, and hiding behind his own unwillingness to speak. But such as it was.

“Rest, Noct,” he said, smoothing his hand up along Noctis’s arm as he started to push himself away. “You’re safe.”

“What–” He was quiet for a moment, squirming away from Ignis’s chest. And then, “where are the others?”

“Keeping an eye out.” He straightened up. Smoothed his hands down his jacket out of nervous habit, and asked the easy question. “How are you feeling?”

He could hear Noctis’s hand brush against fabric, likely at his chest again. “… Weird.” And then, Ignis could feel all of the intensity of Noctis’s gaze as it latched onto him. “You knew.”

He inclined his head. “Yes,” he said softly, shortly. The truth. He had promised. Finally.

“You knew and you never _told me–”_ Noct’s breath caught; he took a deep breath and continued. “How long? How long have you known??”

“… Since Altissia.”

Noct made a strangled noise, and Ignis continued.

“Since Leviathan,” he clarified, tilting his face away. “Ravus came first to my aid, and then to yours. He saved your life.”

“He…”

“You were… unconscious,” he said slowly, “and Ravus gave you more of his blood. A sire’s blood–”

“I know.” Another deep breath. The shifting of movement. “Why wouldn’t you _tell me?”_ he asked eventually. He sounded pained. Ignis didn’t know if it was… the remaining effects, or the conversation.

“I…” _was a coward._ “Couldn’t bring myself to deliver another blow, with everything you were going through.”

 _“Me._ What _I_ was going through, you should have– my _humanity_ , Ignis! I’ve been trying to figure it out since it _happened!”_

“I know,” he said solemnly.

“I don’t need protected, I’ve been through all of this, one more thing… one more _important_ thing… I don’t _want_ protected! Don’t _make_ those decisions for me!”

“I didn’t intend–”

“You don’t get to cut me out from the bad parts of my life! That isn’t how it _works!_ I don’t… if–if I could go back, change things…” Noct trailed off, and then sucked in a sharp, shaking breath. “But I wanted to know. I needed to know. You didn’t have the _right–”_

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that supposed to fix something!?”

Ignis paused, and then shook his head. No, it didn’t fix what had happened or make better what he had failed the prince on. But he was sorry, and not because he was being chastised for keeping the secret. He had meant to tell him. He had. But those were excuses, too, and he wouldn’t use them. This remained purely on him.

“Iggy… I love you, but… God, _please_ … _please_ don’t do this. Don’t dictate what you think I should know or shouldn’t. I can’t… I can’t handle people I’m supposed to trust keeping _secrets_ from me anymore!”

He wondered if he was permitted to reach out and console him. He figured he was not, and clasped his hands tightly in his lap. Don’t keep secrets, he thought, and he could still feel the phantom impression of the Ring on his finger and the healed ache of scarring caused by no physical means. But that was different. He told himself it was, because he couldn’t tell Noctis about that sacrifice. On that, he would continue to be weak. He would _never_ share it, if he could help it. It had been _his_ sacrifice. One way or the other, there was nothing to be done, and he wouldn't let it affect Noct. One secret he would keep to his grave and beyond. It was better that way.

 _I’m sorry,_ he thought again, faintly, and swallowed the lump in his throat as he listened to the prince breathe unevenly. _Forgive me. Please–_

“We…” Noct started. And then stopped, and then continued. “We should go,” he said, and nothing else, and Ignis felt as though his heart had frozen in his chest.

Still, he made no indication. He nodded instead. “If you’re rested enough,” he said carefully, and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll get Gladio.”

Noct didn’t stop him as he brushed around him, and he made no effort to pull him in, either. Despite the fact that he wanted to, wanted to gather him up against his chest like he had been only moments prior, like he had barely had time to since Altissia, like he had planned to do once they got out of this godsforsaken Keep.

He did pause, for a moment, before he stepped out of the makeshift catacombs of shipping containers they had sequestered themselves in. He rest his hand on one of them, and looked ahead. “Noct.”

“Yeah…?”

“You’re right. I didn’t have the right to keep that secret from you.” He nodded once. “It wasn’t my choice. I shouldn’t have made it such. I… must ask your forgiveness. Over time,” he said softly, “if need be.” He drummed his fingers, very briefly, against the container, and pushed away from it to go find Gladio.

“That could have gone better,” was the first thing out of his mouth, and Ignis couldn’t help but wince.

“You heard.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t exactly making an effort to be quiet,” Gladio continued, taking Ignis’s arm to guide him.

“He is right, though.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

“I already told _him.”_

“Yeah. Time to move on. Hell, Iggy, you yelled at him in the halls of the Citadel that time and he was still talking to you the next day.”

 _That_ made him cringe, too. He could remember that day too clearly. One of their rare arguments, turned into a shouting match in the halls; Ignis hadn’t even known he could raise his voice in such a way until it had _happened._ Noct being Noct, he hadn’t hesitated in arguing back, despite the Citadel staff trying to intervene.

They had both been so _angry_. It had been an argument over the _Crystal_ , of all things, and its effects on Regis. Ignis hadn’t known, then. He truly hadn’t. All he knew was that he was watching the man he had grown to liken towards a father figure get ever more sick right alongside Noct and… it had culminated, poorly.

The young prince had stormed off after that argument, and Ignis had gone back to work expecting his position to be immediately revoked, perhaps even his removal from Insomnia itself, but everything had progressed as normal. Noctis had told them he had provoked it– Ignis wasn’t at fault and he would rather people tell him what he needed to hear regardless of his position as prince. Everyone tiptoed around it; it was a weak excuse at best, but when Ignis caught his gaze during his duties, Noct had merely smiled and shrugged. Even Regis had had nothing to say about it, but perhaps most telling had been the small, wry smile Ignis had received the next time they were in close quarters. Noct had spoken on his behalf to him as well… or perhaps Regis had heard about the argument’s topic and couldn’t bring himself to chastise either of them.

Something Ignis still didn’t know, to this day.

“You gotta let tempers cool,” Gladio continued. “Not that I’m the best advocate for it, but.” A dismissive tone; likely, a shrug. “Cool down, get his trust back. Gotta get the Crystal back first, though. In the meantime.”

Ignis breathed in deeply. He could hear Prompto’s voice coming into range behind them. “Right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

 

 

“They just keep coming!”

Ignis felt the pass of the creature’s claws, far too close to his face for liking. They were surrounded, and true to words, more daemons kept appearing. They would wear themselves down like this. Running would do them no better; further exertion would leave them defenseless and they needed to be sure Noctis’s path to the Crystal was clear.

Or… maybe if they _distracted_ the enemies… he didn’t like it. But, again, strategically speaking, the prince was the only one with the power to wield the Crystal, ergo he was the only one who needed to go on ahead. Noct could handle himself. Time and again he had proven it. His stamina was steps above their own. If there was a fight to be had ahead, given it wasn’t like this one now, he would… likely… be able to manage. So long as they kept the bulk of the attention on themselves.

He forced himself to say the words. “Noct, you must go on ahead.”

“What?!”

“If you can obtain the Crystal’s power, we may yet be able to turn the tide. Elsewise, we are all like to perish here.” That, more than anything, would likely hasten Noctis’s departure from the fray. Or so Ignis was hoping for.

“Iggy’s right! It’s our only chance!”

Ignis shot Gladiolus a grateful look. _Thank you, Gladio._

“But… But what about you?!”

“We’ll manage somehow!” Prompto yelled. “Just get moving!”

And Prompto, too. _Good._

All three of them. They would help to fight their prince’s battles, and he would retake what was rightfully his. They would give him the leverage. Such was the duty of Crownsguard.

He tossed a ball of fire at one of the Giants, and startled when a hand caught his wrist as he pulled back from the flames. He knew the touch quite well. “Noct–” he started, prepared to tell him to _go._

“I know you hate it but _please_ , just this time–” Noctis was saying, and much like the first time, before Ignis could protest, there was blood pressing against his parted lips and he was swallowing a mouthful before he could retch over the taste. “– you’re still at a disadvantage, so just _take the help_ –”

“I don’t want your blood!” he spluttered. _“You’re_ the one who should–”

“No, I already fed!”

For a split second, it derailed him. _From whom?_ He didn’t get to ask. Noctis’s lips pecked against his before he was tugging away. “Be careful, guys, I’ll be back– I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hang in there.”

At least he was _going_. He would be safe as soon as he got to the Crystal.

“Stay safe!” he called over the fighting, as he immediately worked back into it himself.

Despite himself, he licked his lips as he did. No, he would never have a taste for it, but the _benefits_ –

Fighting made easier.

A minute passed. And then two. _Surely_ Noct was at the Crystal by now– no, he needed to count for the fact that there had probably been more enemies on the other side. Ardyn would not make it so easy. Three minutes, by his count. He thought they might have been turning the tide, and more daemons appeared.

“Why isn’t it working?!” Gladio demanded. “The Crystal’s right on the other side of that elevator, right, he would have gotten there by now!”

“I–” He didn’t get those words out, either. _Terror_ washed over him instead, locking his joints in place. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His heart jumped into overdrive, into his mouth and back down through his stomach. He wanted _someone–_

Something hit him, physically; it knocked whatever tiny remains of breath had been in his lungs out. He fell hard. He barely felt it. Terror and… desperation. Fear. Confusion. Those weren’t his emotions. Those were _Noctis’s._

“Iggy!”

“Something’s wrong.” His own voice sounded strangled.

Gladio’s hand on his back. “What?”

He had to gulp in a lungful of air to repeat it. “Something’s wrong.” He rose to his feet, shaking.

“How do you know??”

“I can _feel_ him. We need to–” Distracting the fight no longer mattered. Whatever was happening on Noctis’s end was far, far worse than dealing with daemons. They needed to _go._

“C’mon,” Gladio said, pulling him aside. “Prompto! Call the elevator!”

“R–Right!”

“Iggy, gonna need you here in the present. _Noct_ needs you in the present.”

“Noct needs _me_ ,” he blurted, cringing as Gladio swept away the enemies with his broadsword. “All of us, he’s… _terrified._ I should– I should be there–”

“We’ll get to him. Alright? In just a minute. I need you to _focus_.”

“Yes…” His skin was crawling. He _tried_ to focus. “Yes.”

So focused was he– on the only thing he should be, Noctis, on emotions he felt and couldn’t control, not if he wanted, spiraling his own wildly out of a range he was capable of handling– that he felt– physically _felt_ – when it all went away. Everything he had been experiencing, gone with no warning. A gaping wound in the center of his heart. He gasped quietly, fingers flying to his chest, suddenly uncertain if he was unable to feel anything at all; but, he was still there, and he was still breathing. He was… however… curiously and abruptly… numb.

“Iggy?”

He shook his head. Barely.

He could feel the presence of the Crystal, pressing down on him like the urge that had come following wearing the ring. He could hear the hum of it surrounding him, and Ardyn’s voice as he spoke. But even before he did, before he could properly assess and gather information, Ignis knew.

Noctis was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot going on but bonus points to anyone who asks the big question
> 
> Upcoming chapters will, of course, have time skips to move things along, and I am, also of course, taking creative liberty on what happens with Ignis during said time skips - some is Comrades compliant, but I can guarantee the timeline will _not_ be. I actually started writing this bit well before I got to play Comrades, and I'm still fuzzy on the timeline that they gave us in game anyway ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World of Ruin

It took a long while to get back to a functioning station. Ignis had gone straight to work, making calls and phoning their friends; if Ardyn’s words upon his departure at Zegnautus were meant to be believed, the gods had taken Noctis _inside_ the Crystal. Why Ardyn felt inclined to share such a piece of knowledge, he didn’t know. All he wanted to figure out was how to get him _back_.

Difficult, that.

He didn’t know how many hours– days, even– had passed before Gladio all but wrangled him to a bed on orders of needing sleep. He really hadn’t needed to. Ignis was too tired to properly try and expend any more energy at the time. But, after a moment’s rest… after sleep… he would be ready to continue. To save Noctis.

How ironic was it that when he was the most tired, sleep eluded him.

He didn’t precisely know when the frustration gave way to tears– and he certainly didn’t know when those tears of frustration turned to ones of _grief_ , didn’t know exactly what thought it was that prompted him to put his head in his hands and cry. All he knew was that it didn’t make him feel better at all, and everything was too quiet as he tried to doze off afterwards. If anyone had noticed his eyes were red in the morning, they said nothing.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The first week was likely the hardest. Frustration and grief were overlaid with determination and hope, contradicting emotions warring within him at every turn. He expected that Gladiolus and Prompto felt the same. They spared little conversation together, save commentary on their findings and sharing that information with the others. Mostly they passed time in silence. At least, Ignis did, buried in lore and books and quiet determination. Prompto tried to lighten the mood, but it was somewhat lacklustre without Noctis there to be his sounding board.

For the first week– longer, indubitably, although he chose not to focus on it– Ignis woke every morning anticipating his presence. Forgetting his disappearance. For a solid, straight week, his heart was torn apart again every morning. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t feel him. He was gone. _Gone–_

He was there in his dreams, however. Innocently, or out of reach, or on one particularly memorable morning, in bed with him, Ignis’s leg hitched up over his shoulder and two fingers buried deep within his ass– Ignis had jerked awake on the precipice of climax, and hadn’t been able to restrain himself, caught in the vestiges of his dream and Noctis’s imaginary touch.

“Iggy?”

Astrals. He’d hoped he hadn’t woken Prompto, at least. “Nothing. A bad dream,” he had lied. “My apologies.” And had waited for him to go back to sleep before going to take a long, cool shower.

_A good dream._

If his eyes were red afterwards– again– not a word was spoken.

And then the darkness began. Or, should he say, the darkness _continued_. The hours of night had been growing steadily longer; they had all taken note of it before Noctis’s disappearance. But the progress of eternal night, as people had taken to calling it, had started to worsen not long after the Crystal had taken the prince.

Each day, he was less and less able to feel the intensity of the sun on his skin. Uncertainty, and the notion that something was very, very wrong, had washed over him instead. And it had been progressively darker ever since.

It was no surprise. The sole remaining light of the line of Lucis was gone, after all.

On that vein, it took less than a month for rumors of Noctis’s vampirism to spread. There had been no word of it upon their return to Lucis. It would have still been front page news. The lack of imposed scandal led Ignis to believe that his fellow hunter had _not_ shared the secret he had known… up until then, at least.

“But why now?” Prompto mumbled. “It’s not… I mean, nothing’s _happened_ lately…”

“Noct’s not here to kick his scrawny ass,” Gladio retorted. “Why else do you think?”

“But Noct _told_ him to tell everyone!”

“Yeah, with his fangs ready to sink into his throat. That guy was lucky if he managed not to piss his pants on the way home.”

“It’s not like Noct would attack without reason, though. The only reason he threatened him was because Iggy was there, right, Iggy? … Iggy?”

He sat up. “I’m sorry, what?” He was trying to remember something… a story Regis had told both him and Noct. A bedtime story about Bahamut. It was proving challenging to remember and even more challenging to find elsewhere. He had begun to wonder if it wasn’t something Regis had made up on his own. Whether it was merely a fairy tale, or a warning of the prophecy… remained to be seen. “I seem to have been daydreaming, Prompto, forgive me.”

He waved his hand. “I was just saying, why now?”

“The darkness, I suspect.” He raised his head to the window. “Not only has the prince of Lucis suddenly vanished, but his disappearance coincides with this eternal night. Revealing now that Noctis is a vampire… perhaps suggests he has something to do with it, given vampire intolerance to sunlight and people’s intolerance to vampires.”

“But that’s stupid!” Prompto retorted. “Noct’s gonna _save_ the world, not end it! Why would he want to destroy his own kingdom just because he’s not human??”

“The answer’s in the question,” Gladio grunted. “Because he’s not human.”

“That’s _stupid!_ ” Prompto repeated.

Ignis coaxed himself to lean forward and press his palm against Prompto’s arm. False reassurances. The past month had been full of them, even when he felt no longer qualified to give them. _“We_ know, Prompto. Now our job remains to be to convince everyone else before Noct comes back. His kingdom need await him, not wish to destroy him, when he does return.”

“We’re gonna prove ‘em wrong.” Prompto grabbed his hand and squeezed. Ignis blinked in surprise. “Noct’s gonna be the best vampire king ever!”

The smile didn’t feel disingenuous, just then. Even Gladio laughed, reaching over to prod at the blonde. “Say that a little louder there, why don’t you?”

“Ahh, my hair– noo, I’m wearing my glasses, watch my glasses–!”

Ignis’s smile lingered, if only for a moment.

 

 

“– pompous little prick probably set all this off himself, let the daemons kill us so he can swoop in and drain our corpses.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The words came unthinkingly, exhaustion and nerves giving way to quick-seated anger as he had listened to the two men talk. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that they were speaking of Noctis. It had taken even less time for his own words to slip free of his tongue, unable to hold them back any longer.

They had taken to visiting the various hunting headquarters scattered across Lucis. He had no desire to go, but, as it were, Noctis _was_ a vampire and what better place for information _on_ vampires than the hunting dens. And, also as it were, with eternal night, not only daemons were a problem, but vampires as well. They may have been disbarred from being hunter-in-name, but it was a problem they couldn’t ignore.

Ignis had less desire to hunt than ever, and he was still no match for it. Training came in starts and stops; he couldn’t remain defenseless with the world as it was, but other endeavors took up a large portion of their time. Traveling, namely. The Marshal was helping him when he could, but they all knew he wasn’t up to fighting vampires on his own yet. Just as well, he supposed.

Some hunting dens they were welcomed in. Others, not as much. _Their_ names had gotten around, too. It seemed to be made difficult by the fact that the vampire they had been helping in question was their _prince_ – their _king_ – a fact which Ignis understood all too keenly.

But he would not stand here and bear witness to these men _slandering_ Noctis’s name, he would _not_.

“Coming to your precious bloodsucker’s defense?” one of them retorted. “Mind your own business.”

“My king is my business.” He couldn’t stop speaking. Rightfully, he knew not to antagonize them and yet he couldn’t hold his tongue. “As should he be yours.”

“My only business,” the man said. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, and Ignis tensed. “With your royal fangfuck… is how quickly he dies when I put a stake in his chest.”

His fingers twitched towards the blade he kept strapped to a thigh, instinct over reason and potentially a disastrous mistake, but he was already seeing red beneath the darkness in his eyes.

“Oh, a blind man’s going to fight me– right, yeah, listen, if I had to guess, it was probably _Prince Noctis_ who caused you to go blind in the first–”

Ignis closed his hand into a fist and _swung_. The last vestiges of reason keeping his fingers from the dagger, throwing over a month’s worth of emotion behind the movement, certain that, at the very least, it would gain him _some_ sense of satisfaction–

A hand caught his arm before he could connect, pulling him back a staggering step.

“I’d shut it before _you_ lose an eye,” Gladio said, and then, directed at Ignis, “we’re going. Now. We got what we came here for.”

He wanted to protest; he knew he shouldn’t, so he let himself be guided away before he could choose something else potentially damning to step into. What was he even _thinking–_

“If you could _not_ go off half-cocked,” Gladio said, flinging his wrist away once they were outside. The night air hit hard on his lungs. Ignis drank it in. “That’d be fucking wonderful, Iggy.”

He ought to apologize, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that, either. Unintentionally, he realized that he was _sulking._

“What do you think you’re doing?! Trying to get in a fight??”

“They were saying–”

“Half of Lucis is saying it! You gonna go around picking fights with all of them? _Astrals_ , _you’re_ smarter than this!”

“I–”

“I know you’re hurting. We’re _all_ hurting! Hell, I know you’re in love with him, but he’s _ours_ to protect, all of _ours_ , and we _failed_ –” He stopped, and then continued, in a steadier voice, “it’s not just you, Ignis. It’s not.”

“I…” _Gods._ Every lecture he had ever given, tossed right back to him. “… I know. I…” He swallowed, swallowed back the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes and reminded himself he needed to get on and reminded himself that Gladiolus was _right._ They were all suffering. “… I’m sorry.”

Anger was funny. There in a minute. Gone in a flash.

They were silent as they joined Prompto again in the car. He gave him a terse smile and leaned his head back on the vinyl. He missed the feel of the Regalia. Then again, they all missed a lot of things lately.

 

 

Gladio left, two weeks later.

As much as Ignis hated to admit it, he… was not surprised. And just as as much as he wasn’t surprised, he wished he had been wrong in his inkling, because he didn’t _want_ Gladio to go. They had already lost Noctis, but he knew better than to think he could stop him. And he wouldn’t have tried, anyway.

“We can cover more ground if we split up,” Gladio said. He was packing up his things, by the sound of it. Few that they had now.

They had stopped using the Armiger as much. Ignis had been surprised to find that they still had access to it at all, what with Noctis… wherever he was, but it was no longer as foolproof as it once had been. It was more difficult to pluck things from the ether, unreliable and energy sapping. They had learned the difficulties of that quite soon after leaving Zegnautus, Gladio summoning up his greatsword to block a horde of daemons– except it hadn’t come, and Ignis had tried, over and over again, with varying degrees of success, to summons his blades as he had listened to Prompto patching Gladio up that night. They didn’t rely on it unless they had to. It was too unpredictable, like everything else.

“But…”

“And there’s other things we need to look into. Might as well split up and save us the time, right?”

“But we need to stick together for Noct!”

“And when he comes back, I’ll be there,” Gladio said. “I won’t keep him waiting. None of us will. But _until_ then–”

“But what about us?!”

“It’s not like I’m not going to keep in touch.” He zipped up his bag. “You’ll both be fine. Just keep an eye out for Iggy while I’m gone, yeah?”

“You can’t just leave us–!”

Ignis found it within himself to interrupt. “Prompto,” he said quietly, and two pairs of eyes looked over at him. He shook his head slightly in the blonde’s direction.

“… no!” Prompto retorted. “That’s _stupid_. If we do something, we should do it together, like we always have.”

“That wastes time.”

“That’s a crap excuse!”

“Prompto,” Ignis urged, a little louder. His raised voice was drawing attention. Ignis could feel it. Not to mention, there was no force on earth that would stop Gladiolus from doing what he wanted to do. Especially when he was grieving. They were all coping differently. Even if they weren’t really coping at all.

“... _fine,”_ Prompto said, quieter. There was still vehemence in his voice, but softer now, almost wavering. A note plucked from the depths of sadness and loneliness and given voice. Ignis felt weak. “But I’m not bailing,” Prompto continued, “because there’s things here to do and I’m gonna do them. I’m not leaving,” he repeated. “If you want me, I’ll be inside working on our research.”

His voice was too careful. Controlled. Ignis didn’t stop him as he walked away, but did permit himself a small sigh once he had gone. Then, he turned back to Gladio. “He’ll understand.”

“I know. Keep an eye on him, too,” Gladio added. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Likewise.” Ignis stood silently, for a long moment, swallowing back words he wouldn’t give voice. Amicitias were never ones for receiving flowery speeches. Ignis wasn’t really in the business of giving them, either.

Instead, he held out his hand, hesitating uncertainly in midair. “Take care, Gladio.”

“Yeah.” Gladio took it. “You too, Iggy.”

 

 

It took another _month_ , Gods bless his soul, for Prompto to leave. Ignis had also been expecting it and, like with Gladio’s departure, it didn’t help at all.

“Sooo, uh… Cindy said she needs some help with some daemons that have started campin’ out near Hammerhead,” Prompto said awkwardly. He was hovering.

Ignis turned his head to look towards him. “Oh?” He injected his voice with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

It seemed to placate Prompto. He perked up. “Yeah! And I thought, uh, if you were alright with it, _I_ might… go help.” And there it was. “I mean! If you wanna come, you totally can! I just figured…”

Ignis’s fingers brushed over the braille display, and he mustered a smile. “And interrupt your time alone with Miss Aurum?” he teased lightly, and nearly _heard_ Prompto fidget in embarrassment. “Perish the thought, Prompto. Go.”

“Really?! I just mean– if you want to take a break from the research, we could make a thing out of it, like, you be my sidekick or something?? I mean obviously we’re going to hunt daemons, but still…”

His laugh was a little more genuine. Small things to find enjoyment in in this world of ruin. At least one of them still possessed the ability to be excited over something. “I’m afraid I’ve never been much of a wingman in that regard,” he said. “In fact, I’m quite certain I’d spoil the mood.”

“No! You wouldn’t!”

“It’s good timing, actually,” he replied, turning back to the computer. “I was planning a small trip to Galdin, so I may do that while you’re away if you’re amenable.”

“Yeah, sure! Great!” Prompto said brightly. “We’ll both have something to do, then!”

Ignis nodded and, despite the unhappiness churning in his stomach, gave him blessing in its entirety. “Go slay daemons for her, Prompto.”

“Eheheh… Prompto, the daemon slayer! I like it!”

“I’m certain you’ll impress her,” he said, and smiled.

When Prompto’s helping hand led into another task, and another, reasons to stay in Hammerhead aside from just hunting– helping out around the garage, as an example– Ignis wasn’t at all surprised. Cindy had always had a penchant for needing a helping hand, and of course Prompto was more than willing to lend it. Ignis was pleased, truly. Something for the blonde to look forward to, a routine to latch onto to avoid the stagnation of a world turned cold. Ignis was happy, even when the phone calls went from daily to weekly, and then even more irregular than that. It just meant at least he was staying busy, he assured him when he did phone, and they both left it at that.

If it meant he was well and truly alone, well. His head hit the pillow; he scrubbed the heels of his hands against his forehead and sighed. Slid his hands down to press against his unseeing eyes. Like many things, he would get used to that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grief makes you do things you would normally would never do huh  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~remember that for upcoming chapters...~~


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting into some slightly more sensitive topic matter in upcoming chapters - keep track of the new tags if you feel you need to!

“You’ve been slacking.”

 _I’ve been doing my best,_ Ignis wanted to say. He swallowed back the retort at the last second, fixing his attention on reaching to steady himself against the wall. His lungs felt like they were burning. His skin felt like it was freezing. An interesting comparison, and he tried to catch his breath before Cor would come in with the next round.

The Marshal had graciously agreed to meet with him, although Ignis had underestimated how their reunion would go. He had not called upon the Marshal to be _gentle_ with him; if he wanted to learn to fight blind, literally, what better way than to go back to the basics that he had been taught: ways to subdue a vampire. The fact that he knew a vampire, knew and trusted a vampire that had superior combat prowess was nearly Gods given. Cor had never gone easy on them, even when they had been young and in early training. He hadn’t expected it now, but this…

“Again,” Cor said, monotone, and Ignis straightened with his lance.

He was batted away easily, weapon going flying and vanishing into the armiger this time. In the moment where he felt the disconnect happen as it sank back into the ether, he very nearly wanted to yell in frustration. _You’re being too quiet!_ he wanted to snap, but that was ridiculous. Vampires possessed the innate ability of stealth, in general as well as on the battlefield. He couldn’t stop each vampire he came across in a fight– and there had been more, more and more, as the eternal night continued and the dangerous vamps grew more brazen– and ask them to kindly make more noise so that he could fight them. That was why he was fighting with Cor, to learn how to properly fight even the most sneaky of adversaries.

... it was not easy.

A wave of vertigo rushed over him when he tried to summon back the polearm. He had to slam his palm against the wall to keep himself upright, and his legs trembled embarrassingly beneath him. He felt dizzy. He squeezed his eyes closed and forced in a few, shallow breaths.

“Ignis.” Cor’s voice was closer; Ignis expected the touch to his arm and was groggily pleased that he didn’t flinch when it came. “You’re ill.”

He shook his head. While it was true that he hadn’t been feeling well for awhile now, his symptoms never peaked nor receded with regular medication and he had chalked it off as a reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere they were all dealing with. The lack of sunlight didn’t help a body, or a state of mind. Factoring in Noct’s disappearance as well, he didn’t expect to be at the top of his game. But he wasn’t sick. Besides, he had no time for it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cor said. His tone was gruff, but with an underlying softness that made Ignis want to collapse into a heap and not _move_. “Sit down.”

He couldn’t refuse. He let the Marshal guide his passage down to sit on the floor, and he shivered as sweat trickled down the small of his back. “I apologize. A moment, and we can–”

“None of your moments. You’re no good to me like this.” Cor crouched next to him. “You need to take care of yourself. You know Noctis would be disappointed.”

“I’m not sick,” he blurted. “I’ve taken medication. I’m sure it’s merely the strain of our abrupt changes. If it was truly the flu, it would have gone by now.”

“Flu-like symptoms… Hm.” Cor shifted, and his hand passed against Ignis’s forehead. Ignis thought his own breath lodged in his throat. “You’ve got a slight fever, but nowhere close to high enough for this reaction. You– ah.”

Ignis tilted his head in silent inquiry.

“… You might be going through withdrawal,” Cor said thoughtfully, and Ignis startled.

“Withdrawal from what?”

“Noctis’s venom.” _Oh._ “You let him feed off of you, right?”

“Yes, but… the last time was back in the Keep.”

The Marshal was quiet for a moment, and then lifted his chin. “Did he ever give you his blood?”

“I, ah…” He felt like he was getting a knowing glance. He had no reason to be embarrassed, yet he reflexively pressed at the frames of his glasses all the same. “… never without a delay,” he said quietly. “So as to make sure we didn’t inadvertently trigger a change.”

“You two thought it through, at least. But that doesn’t matter now. Venom can hang on for weeks, and can be magnified by your mutual sharing of blood. It’s not an exact science. I take it you haven’t tested it.”

“Tested it, as in…”

“Allowed a vamp to bite you.”

“Of course not.”

It had never crossed his _mind._ He had allowed Noct to drink from him because he _knew_ him, he _trusted_ him. He had been terrified at first and scared even afterwards, for a time, and that was with someone he had _grown up with._ Letting someone else… although… come to think of it… wherever Noct was, he would likely– immediately– need blood upon his return. Up until now, Ignis had been able to give freely because he had gotten used to the venom. What if, when Noct came back and Ignis offered himself up as usual, he ended up out of commission due to illness, like he had those very first few times? He refused to be any more of a liability than he already was.

He was deep enough in thought that Cor’s sigh startled him. “I can offer to test the theory this once, but I’m not in a habit of biting humans. You need to decide where you’re going to go from here if it turns out to be venom withdrawal. That’s your choice. So is this. If you want to test it, I’ll do it. If not, we go back to sparring. No questions asked.”

“I…” What was he saying? What was he doing? Why was he considering this? Most _telling_ was that he was considering this. Ignis gave a small sigh, and then reached for the button on his cuff. “I imagine you’ll take the wrist?”

“A quick bite,” Cor agreed. “But remember what I said. After this…”

“I’ll decide on my own,” Ignis interrupted, and held out his wrist. He reflexively turned his face away. He trusted the Marshal just as much as he trusted Noct in terms of feeding– maybe even more, given Cor’s age and time since his turning. But it felt… weak. As if he were giving into something solely for his own benefit. Part of it was, certainly. He couldn’t deny that. But part of it was also in chance of preparation for when Noctis returned.

He wondered if that sounded like an excuse. He knew that it did.

The pain of fangs sliding into his skin almost felt like coming home. He had to close his eyes, had to remind himself that it _wasn’t_ Noct. He had to swallow back the _yearning_ beneath his skin, and the fire erupting in his veins. And he couldn’t look at Cor when the man told him to wait two days and then return for training, and to keep track of how he felt.

The temporary high lasted, unsurprisingly. His ‘flu’ went away, and Ignis was faced with the very true reality that he now had an _addiction_ , one that he couldn’t fix for convenience sake. And one that he didn’t want to. If Noct never bit him again, or if he had to go back to suffering the ill effects of a bite every time… the thought nearly made him dizzy. He needed to be of service to the king, in _whatever_ way he could now. And, selfishly, he couldn’t fathom giving up the feeling that came with it.

In need of a fix, in more ways than one. It… was a frightening prospect, but he had made his decision.

It didn’t lessen his panic when he found himself standing just inside the door of the bleeder den. It was a clever disguise, a run-down club from the outside. Cor had described it to him. Likely some sort of glamor somewhere. Vampires feeding from willing humans. He couldn’t see them; he knew they were there. His heart was in his throat.

He clenched his hands into fists at his side and stepped inside.

“Hey there, outsider.”

He turned his head towards the voice. Swallowing down his hesitation, he forced himself to speak. He was here for a reason. He’d best get used to it. “Is it that obvious?” He was aiming for lighthearted. Perhaps this vampire would be kind and not mention how it wasn’t _._

“You smell of fear and have too much tension.” The voice sounded distinctly male. Maybe. It was hard to pinpoint, and possibly yet another glamour. Each vampire catering to their donor, if they possessed the ability to. “Most people carry that vibe when they come here the first time.”

“Ah… well, you’ve caught me. It’s indeed my first time in a place like this.” It wasn’t, but never for the sole purpose of _being_ bled. “I confess I’m not… entirely sure how this works.”

“There’s nothing to it. If you have no one you’d like to request, you just grab someone who’s free. _I’m_ free,” they added, “but if you’d like, I can bring over some of my friends.”

He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Smiled. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Not at all, friend.”

“Then I am here for your…” _Pleasure? Entertainment? Needs?_ “Ah, I merely mean–”

“Don’t worry so much…” Their voice trailed off as a question, and he paused for only a moment.

“Ignis,” he said quietly.

“Well then, don’t worry so much, Ignis. It’s not going to hurt, and we’re all very safe here. If you’ll– oh, would you let me guide you?”

He acquiesced with a nod, holding out a hesitant hand. The vampire took it and placed it in the crook of their arm. “Thank you.”

“Of course. We’ll have a seat and discuss the terms of feeding. Can I get _you_ a drink, though? Your nerves look so frayed.”

“I…” He briefly entertained the idea of saying _no_. But then decided _what the hell,_ instead. He had little to lose. Except his sobriety, and he had already done that at least once since Noctis’s disappearance. He wouldn’t let it go that far tonight. “Only one.”

“Let me guess, you don’t drink much.”

He was guided to what felt to him a chaise, reaching out a hand to help himself sit. “Rarely ever.” They sat down next to him, and he forced himself not to lean away. If this was to become a regular thing, he best get used to it. Until Noct came back himself, this was the only alternative.

“A pity,” they said, “and still a trait I admire, really. A drink to calm your nerves, then, and we’ll leave it at that. Good?”

“Good. Ah, I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your name, either.”

“Oh, right, call me Eden. I’ll introduce you to some of the others later, or if you decide to come back. You can choose between hosts or stick with one.” A nudge to the elbow. He tensed and then forced himself to relax. “Stick with me, Ignis.”

His heart seized in his throat. And then he smiled, and put on his best. For Noctis, after all. “You’ll have to impress me, then,” he said, and gulped back the drink that was pressed into his hand.

Whiskey, and it burned the whole way down. He took another deep breath as Eden laughed, low and warm, and then raised his chin. If anything, the burn let him focus on other things than fear and missing Noct. He needed to gather information here; asking questions before he got too far into this. He knew how to do that. He was good at that. “How do you do this?”

“We talk terms–”

“Terms?” he interrupted.

“Yes.” It sounded like he was being given a smile. “Mostly about your lucidity, ranging from if you prefer to be aware afterwards. Some people prefer to be bled ‘til unconscious. We have rooms for those who need to recover overnight. Location of the bite. Risks,” Eden added, “because obviously we’re drinking from you, there’s danger involved in every vamp bite but let me just say there’s _never_ been an incident here, not once. You’re in safe hands, Ignis. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

He nodded. “I trust you.” He didn’t, not really, but he, at the very least, needed to pretend it was so. Maybe one day soon, he would. Eventually. Hopefully.

“Great! So let’s talk, Ignis! Do you go by Ignis? Or a nickname, maybe?”

He paused, reflex bringing the shortened version of his name to his tongue. But he stopped at the last minute, swallowed and then shook his head. “Just Ignis.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weakness

Ignis held the burn under the stream of cold water pouring from the tap, smiling faintly at Cid’s concerned grumbling as he sat in the other half of the kitchen. It was just a small burn. It would smart, he was certain, but it wasn’t a new thing, and truly, it had been a stupid mistake. He’d made it all the way through this dish without any kind of miscalculation. Trust that he would burn himself sliding the rack back into the oven.

“There goes my record.” He shook the water from his fingertips and carefully dabbed them dry on his apron. “Mark ‘days without an incident’ back to zero.”

So it went.

The weeks went on, and so did they. He could never attest to where the others were at any given time; they both called to check in every so often, but the phones calls were shorter, meant only to pass information. As for himself, he often found himself sweltering over the ovens in Lestallum when he wasn’t poring over whatever scraps of information regarding the line of Lucis, the Chosen King, and whom they had come to know as the Accursed.

One week had seemed like a lifetime, at first, and so when his phone read out the date in its ever-steady tone, he was surprised when he realized _six months_ had gone by since Noct had left them.

_“The six month anniversary,”_ he said to the others on a conference call, and from the way they went silent, they seemed to have lost track of time as well.

“It ain’t funny. Yer gonna give me a damned heart attack, keep on like that…”

Ignis’s smile grew. It _wasn’t_ funny, but he had learned to keep a sense of humor. One half of a year. He couldn’t linger in pity and grief for that long, and longer. He had things to do, and he did them as though Noct were there to witness it all. His duty remained to the king. The king was absent, but not gone entirely. His duty remained.

Not to say that he wasn’t grieving. Because he was. Oh _Gods_ , he was. Night was the worst, when he had worked his body back into a regular sleeping pattern despite the eternal night and his equally unending darkness. He had nothing to do except lay and think. As it stood, he only dragged himself off to bed when he could work no longer, when exhaustion was nearly snatching him away as he stood. Every now and then, a stray sleeping aid was taken to help combat particularly bad nightmares– nightmares that were more like night terrors, when he saw things so vivid in his mind that he woke up breathing hard, sweat sticking his shirt to his back, anxiety rattling his bones in such a way that he shook as he sat up in bed. They were about Noct. They were always about Noct.

“Iggy’s cooking?”

Ignis lifted his chin in greeting. “Talcott. Come for tasting?”

“Of course!”

“Ignis, I didn’t know you were cooking.” Monica followed him in.

“Well, I wanted to test my abilities before I headed out.”

“Another hunt?”

“Yes.”

“You really shouldn’t.” Iris. “It hasn’t been so long since–”

“I’m quite capable,” he interrupted gently. “You needn’t worry, Iris, if anything I’m more accustomed to the darkness than everyone else is.”

“You keep saying that, but…”

“He’s progressing,” Cor said, his footsteps pausing in the doorway. “An additional hunter and he’s fine.” And then, directed towards him, “I thought we might leave early, but I see you’re busy.”

He shook his head. “I just finished. Give me a moment to clean up and I can be ready.” The hunt wasn’t only a pretense, but the truth of the matter remained that it was time for his visit to Eden. Only he and Cor knew that, though.

“I can clean up,” Iris said. “Marshal, you’ll stick with Ignis?”

“I really couldn’t ask you to–”

“Iris and I will manage,” Monica said gently. “Go ahead with the Marshal. You’ll come back to Lestallum soon?”

Ignis ducked his head. “A stop by Hammerhead and Galdin, and then I hope to. Perhaps I’ll bring back some more fish.”

“Yeah, yeah, well this one’s gonna get cold if ya don’t give it to me!” Cid complained. “Don’t stand there yappin’, give it here and then go make your king proud.”

Monica rest a hand on his arm as she stepped up to take the dish. “Go, Ignis. We’ll be waiting.”

He smiled and reached to untie his apron.

 

 

Hammerhead came first, missing out on visiting Prompto due to a hunt, and then Galdin came second. There were leftover things to be gathered from all outposts, the resort especially. Cookware from Coctura’s kitchen and household supplies from the hotel rooms. They collected what they could these days. Some things were still untouched by daemons, and those were the things that were were immediately taken back to Lestallum. And… part of him was going to the Quay purely for selfish reasons.

One of those particularly vivid dreams had found himself on the dock there, able to see the island– Angelgard– with his own two eyes. And then he had been taken _to_ Angelgard and, for one wild moment, he’d thought he’d seen Noct there. Fast asleep, body slumped against the wall, peaceful. Close enough to touch and when Ignis had tried, he’d woken up with the press of an otherworldly voice in his head _Now enter into Reflection, that the Light of Providence shine within._

“What do you think?” he murmured, and let his fingers slide into Umbra’s thick fur. The canine had taken to spending a majority of time with him as of late; he had come and gone when the three of them had still been together, but when the other two had gone, the messenger had evidently decided his duty was by Ignis’s side. Just like Noct, Ignis had always thought wryly, but Umbra’s presence was… more than welcoming. “You know where your master is, I’m certain.” As Lunafreya had passed, and Pryna with her, Noct had said quietly on the way out from Tenebrae, Noct truly _was_ Umbra’s owner, now, in a sense of the word.

Umbra huffed and dropped his head onto Ignis’s thigh. Ignis chuckled, and pulled his legs back onto the dock as he heard creatures move in what had to be the murky water below. “Shall we camp, then?”

A bark, and Ignis lingered for only a few minutes longer before they both headed to make camp. The hotel was uninhabitable, and the camper had been towed away. Umbra would warn him if there were daemons coming, and he fell asleep quickly after a long day of activity.

And then there was Noct, in another realm, and Ignis watched as fire burned beneath his skin. The Ring on his finger and determination set in his gaze– older now, with longer hair and stubble upon his jaw. _Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all_ from the same mystic voice as his other dreams. He watched as Noctis disappeared into nothingness, into fire and smoke and ashes.

And he woke up with the taste on his tongue, gasping and choking on tears and panic, his heart heavy from grief and his hand heavy from the phantom press of the Ring itself. The other hand went searching, hit his sleeping bag and extra blankets and then–

A soft whine, and Ignis reached out to touch Umbra and gather the dog to his side. “Umbra,” he rasped as he forced himself to lay back down. The king must sacrifice himself for all. What did that mean? And what kind of dreams _were_ these? He had a suspicion he could answer both questions, but right now, he wouldn’t think on it. He couldn’t. Noct would return to the land of Lucis– to him– and would dispel darkness from the world. He would become a great king. And then maybe they could tie it all up in a neat fairytale happily-ever-after. The gods knew they deserved it.

It took a long time to fall asleep after that.

 

 

“You don’t have to be so sad all the time,” Eden said, and Ignis startled away from his book. His vampire host was no longer drinking from him.

“I’m not.” He realized how stupid it was to disagree after he had said it.

It seemed he did get a _look_ for it. “You pretend like you’re not,” they replied. “But it’s kind of this all-encompassing unhappiness. Every time I see you. I _feel_ it.”

Ignis ran his fingers over the words without comprehending them. “Just been having some dreams. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You _miss_ someone,” Eden continued, wheedling the information out of him by the way Ignis couldn’t help but tense at. “You’ve missed him for ages. Or, well, long enough. Is it the one on your phone? The one of you and him on the wallpaper.”

He swallowed. He had… forgotten that photo. Prompto had snapped it of them in Altissia, sitting together in the gondola. They had been talking. Laughing, even, Ignis struggling to contain a smile behind propriety and Noct leaning into his weight with the biggest smile. He’d requested Prompto send it to him and had immediately made it his home screen. He had never been one for personal photos as wallpapers, but he hadn’t been able to resist _that._

He wished he could see it. If Noct had been taken away by the old gods for reasons still yet unknown, at _least_ let him have the photos to look at. If he couldn’t see his face, at least…

His throat was tight, and there were tears stinging his eyelids. He cursed the swell of strange dreams at Galdin, and turned his face away from Eden. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not.”

“Eden–” he started, through clenched teeth and raising his arm to re-offer his bleeding wrist.

Eden caught his arm instead, raising his hand to press against their face. Except it wasn’t what he expected, and Ignis’s breath stalled in his throat again.

Ignis, inhibited as he was, never really know who he was talking to. Who he was letting drink from him. In the end, it didn’t matter much. It was a vampire, one who had taken care with him when he had first showed up, had continued to be what was assuredly _too_ careful to them, all with the intention of calming Ignis’s nerves each of the seven times he’d been here. (He kept track. Meticulously.) Eden was _good._ Like the other vampires he had come to know through name and greeting. Like their king. So that was all that mattered. Eden got blood, he got his… loathe as he was to call it a _high_ , it was. It didn’t matter who Eden _really_ was, or what they looked like.

But he knew the face beneath his hand; he was _intimately_ familiar with it and those were lines and curves and silky hair beneath his fingertips that he could never forget. He was staring, he knew, and it was horribly inappropriate to raise his other hand to curve along the other side of Eden’s face– no, _Noct’s_ face.

_“… how?”_ he gasped, and he _hated_ that his voice came out thin.

He knew how. He _knew._ Vampires had various abilities. Eden’s must be… shapeshifting, or illusions, projections… he didn’t know the exact area of skillfulness that this vampire possessed, but it was enough to make it seem like Eden was _Noctis._

“Does it matter?”

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t. Ignis knew that. The voice was wrong, product that Eden had never _heard_ Noctis’s voice, he imagined, but… he still leaned a little further into the cool presence, brushed his fingers along cheekbones and eyelids and lips. Noct. It was him, even if it wasn’t.

“You don’t have to be sad anymore, Iggy.”

He made a choked noise of recognition, of wonder, of– of… he didn’t know.

“That’s what he called you, didn’t he?” Eden asked. “That’s why your smile gets weird when some of the vamps around here call you that. That was _his_ nickname for you.”

“No…” It wasn’t _just_ Noct’s name for him, but he was already fighting a losing battle. “It was just…”

“Doesn’t matter, love. Explanations aren’t important.” The fingertips resting near those familiar lips were presented with attention, idle-minded brushes of kisses against skin. His breath caught _again._ “Never have been. We’re just here to make each other feel good, right?”

No. But yes. No but yes in the same way that this wasn’t Noct but was. No _was_ yes, and… things had been so upended that his _chest_ hurt, he couldn’t _breathe–_ his _heart–_ Gods how could something hurt so _badly_ after it had already been irrevocably broken beyond repair?

There were lips pressed against his palm. Soft, light, inviting. He thought he may have made a noise akin to a sob and then rocked forward, taking Noct’s face in his hands to kiss him.

_Astrals,_ but he was weak. Weak, weak, weak, weak, _weak, WEAK,_ something in his head was chanting, but it was lost over the way Noct was _kissing_ him, soft but insistent, and the hands that roam his body so deliciously that Ignis nearly ended up straddling his lap in his haste. He was there. He was there. He may never have this again. But for now… just for now… oh _Gods_ , Noct was soft and cool and so very much _there._

There was blood on his arm and hands and Noct’s face, and there were tears on his own, hot and fast and unending. Even when Noct kissed him so gently, and when he led him up from the chair to a room nearby, when he undressed him and pressed him back into the pillows and _made love to him_ so delicately. There were still tears. Ignis couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to.

It was bliss. He would give all for it to last a little longer.

Unsurprisingly, it did not. He muffled his cry of release into Noct’s neck and held onto him throughout the aftershocks, when his head was full of cotton and his mind and body exhausted. It was bliss. It was agony. He’d do it all again.

There was breath was against his neck. He was silent, still trying to catch his own, but… the _longing_ , the ache in his body not solely from the activities of the night.

“Do you want…” Noct breathed, and the _deja vu_ was so strong it nearly made him ill.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he gasped, and then, more quietly, _“please.”_

The pain of fangs barely registered. Ignis smiled, and drifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of yall wanted Ignis to feel The Guilt™ so here you go, just for you
> 
> no, kidding, this was planned and discussed and written out ages ago (one of two chaps I've called outside help in for, huzzah) part of this is rolling to next chapter, but really I'm just pleased I can now say I chose Eden's name because it means pleasure and delight lmao anyway lots to unload this chapter but I'll stop here before I go off on another essay in my a/n
> 
> as far as _good_ news goes, I've officially finished this fic!! that I've been working on since last October!! so updates will go back to being regular and quite possibly even quicker than before eyes emoji


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, and things change

He ached in more ways than one. He wasn’t certain if it was the mental or physical that was worse, really. No… that wasn’t true. It was undoubtedly the former. It was a mistake, all told, but if he were being honest with himself, a mistake he would have made if he had the opportunity to go back and do it over again. There was no world in which he could imagine himself having not willingly gone with the illusion. A mistake, but it was one he had under his belt– quite literally, he thought, and grimaced at his own play on words.

He would _not_ be doing that again.

Once, the idea of having sex with a casual acquaintance would have made him turn away in distaste. It still wasn’t very far up on his list of things he preferred to be doing– not at all– but the fact of letting someone else explore his body in ways he had expected to only allow one person to paled in comparison to the bigger question: what did he tell Noct? _I’m sorry, they reminded me of you_ was a poor excuse, every soap opera drama’s line when a cheating spouse was caught in the act. Was it better or worse than _I was lonely_ ? And were either of those lines better than _I watched you die I watched you die I watched y–_

Astrals, he was nauseous. He’d pretend it was because he was recovering from blood loss, but he couldn’t lie to himself any more this morning.

Eden was already long gone. Taking a quick stock of himself found aches that were assuredly bruises, and vague soreness that he expected was product of… receiving for the first time. _(Gods,_ that honor should have gone to Noct. Real Noct. _His_ Noct.) His wrist was bandaged; his neck, too. His clothes were folded in a neat pile on the nearby chair, along with his phone and book from downstairs. Ignis sighed and set to gathering it all.

A _regret_ , but he couldn’t stay here and linger over it. He had to go, now.

There were two voicemails from Cor. _One_ phone call from him was usual, to check in on him after a feeding. Two was out of character, but then, Ignis always picked up his phone. He would call him back after he was out of here. He stashed his phone and surreptitiously fixed his collar again, certain he could feel a bruise beneath it, and then took the remains of his pride to find his way downstairs.

“Ignis.” A voice mostly unfamiliar, although recognizably one of the vampires that worked there. “I didn’t know you stayed here last night.”

His fingers twitched. “Yes.” There wasn’t much else to say, and this vamp probably could guess the reason why by his… scent. He knew it was a regular thing amongst the vampires and humans as well, so he tried to put his shame on the backburner. “Is… Eden around this morning?”

“No, sorry. They left before seven, but I’m sure they’ll be back tonight if you want to stick around.”

Shaking his head, he put on his practised smile, pushed his glasses up, and declined. “Not today, I’m afraid.”

“Right.” A pat to his shoulder. “Well, we’re here when you want us, same as usual.”

“Same as usual,” Ignis repeated, and let himself out.

 _“Is everything alright?”_ Cor’s greeting was terse, and, strangely, wide awake. Despite the long night, he’d learned Cor still tended to sleep during what had been day– too many years habit not to.

He frowned. “Everything’s fine. Is something wrong on your end?”

 _“… no.”_ Cor sighed; the phone went full of static for a moment. _“You didn’t answer your phone last night.”_

“I…” wouldn’t be admitting to the Marshal, of all people, what he’d done. “… gave more than I intended to,” he said. It wasn’t a _complete_ lie.

_“Willingly?”_

“Yes.” His smile was faint, but wry. “I apologize, Marshal. It won’t be happening again.”

 _“If you say so,”_ Cor said. _“It’s your life. You have to live it the way you want.”_

“I am… doing my best,” he allowed. Six months on and it was still the truth. Another six months and he’d probably be saying the same thing.

_“Aren’t we all?”_

Yes. He knew the answer was yes. “Every day,” he murmured, and Cor huffed a humorless laugh.

_“You need a ride somewhere? I’m still in the vicinity.”_

“No…” He tilted his head towards the cars. “I’ll hitch back to Lestallum, I think, thank you.”

_“Right. Still meeting up next weekend?”_

“If you’re amenable.”

_“Of course. Can’t let you get rusty.”_

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His fingers tightened around the phone, and then he forced them to relax. “Thank you, Marshal.”

_“I told you to call me Cor.”_

Ignis hummed what might have been a laugh. He wasn’t entirely certain. “Cor,” he said, and his lips twitched wryly. “Old habits.”

The oldest.

 

“Where is she?!”

Ignis raised his head. He could make out a murmured response, and then same, loud voice.

“Let me see my sister, dammit!”

He stood up. His joints protested movement after sitting for so long; his cane slipped from where he’d had it propped against his lap. Making a grab for it missed; it bounced to the floor and feeling for it with his foot was fruitless. He felt out for the wall and turned his head back to the corridor. “Gladio,” he called, raising his voice loud enough for his friend to hear.

“Iggy– get off me–”

“Sir–”

“He’s Iris’s brother, the King’s Shield,” Ignis said quickly. “I’ll take him from here.”

“Where is she, Ignis?” He was close enough in just a few strides for Ignis to reach out a hand. Gladio didn’t take it. _“How_ is she? All I heard was–”

“Gladio.”

“– that she’d been rushed here, no one will tell me anything else–”

“Gladio,” he repeated. His fingers bumped into a shoulder. He guided them down to the crook of his arm, and held on gently. “She’s going to be fine.”

“Don’t _placate_ me, Ignis–”

“There will be scarring,” he said patiently, “but otherwise, she will recover.”

“Scarring??”

“Along her back. I heard… I heard that the creatures got its claws in deep.” Gladio sucked in a sharp breath, and Ignis pressed on hurriedly. “But she will be fine, Gladio, trust _me_ on that.”

“I want to see her.”

“You can’t.” A voice beyond Gladio’s back, and Ignis looked up.

“Libertus…”

“They’re still tending to her,” Libertus said. He sounded tired. “But Ignis heard right. She’ll be… she’ll be okay.”

“How do you even…” Gladio trailed off, and went still beneath Ignis’s hand. “Wait, were _you_ the one with her?”

“… yeah.”

Gladio’s arm pulled away from Ignis.

“Gladio–”

“Gladio, I swear it wasn’t–”

“How could you let this happen!?”

“We thought we were safe, all the enemies had been–”

“So you weren’t paying _attention?!”_

“No! That asides, she’s an efficient hunter on her own–”

“Even the best hunter needs someone watching their back sometimes! What were you doing!?”

“You know I protect her like she’s my own sister!”

“You didn’t do good enough!”

“I _know_ that!”

“After what happened to _Crowe–”_

 _“Enough!”_ Ignis caught a hand at either Gladio and Libertus’s arms, deftly stepping between them. “Now is not the time for–” Something slipped beneath his foot and rolled; he staggered and was suddenly being held up by two pairs of hands.

Well, it was one way to end an argument, he supposed.

“… your cane,” Libertus said softly, and stooped to pick it up.

“Ahh… I wondered where it had rolled off to.”

Libertus pressed it back into his hand, and Gladio muttered at him to go sit down. He acquiesced on the premise Gladio sit down, too. He did, and Ignis resumed his vacated seat. He heard Libertus sit down on the other side of Gladio, the dull whine of cheap hospital chairs grinding beneath their weight. He propped his cane back against the wall and folded his hands in his lap.

“How could this happen.” Gladio spoke at length, and it sounded as though his face were in his hands. “How in the god’s names _–”_

“The gods don’t care about us,” Libertus interrupted.

Gladio huffed something like a dry laugh.

“I mean, it’s true. They wouldn’t leave us like this. They wouldn’t have done this. They wouldn’t have let this happen. Why is it the king’s duty to return the light? Why don’t they do it? Too many good people have been _sacrificed_ for this. For _their_ prophecy.” Libertus trailed off, and sounded choked.

Ignis _ached._ “You’re right,” he said quietly, before he could even stop the words. They fell from his lips like poison, surely a damning admission. He found he didn’t much care if it was, at this point. He felt two sets of eyes on him, and quirked an uneven smile. “Yes?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Gladio muttered, and slumped back in his seat. “Thought _you_ were devout, at least.”

“How can I be?” he murmured. This wasn’t a conversation that he particularly wanted to have out loud, even if he had been harboring the notion for… some time now. “It’s unimportant.”

It was as Libertus said. Why had the burden of this world fallen onto Noctis’s shoulders? And why, when the world had descended into darkness, had they still abandoned them? The _kingdom_ was Noctis’s. The responsibility of saving the world from ruin ought not to be. What were the gods there for if not to protect them? To guide them in times of need? Miracles were not made out of nothing, Ignis knew, but perhaps… someone owed them– _Noctis–_ the burden of taking responsibility instead of passing the torch.

He was _bitter._ He was _annoyingly_ bitter, while the truth of the matter was that it was not _his_ place to be. And that frustrated him even more, made him even more angry and put out with the lack of help and the weight of the prophecy that they had felt compelled to lay upon Noct.

Terrible things happened. He accepted that. Tragedy was not necessarily there for the gods to banish, but the prophecy? _This?_ Yes. That was wholly on them and Ignis could not be happy to serve the gods who thought it fitting to continually toy with human lives in such a way.

Never had they needed their gods more, and they had turned away. Ignis had been quietly simmering in rage and despair alike.

“Think your crisis of faith is pretty damn important,” Gladio said. “Or, well… it would have been at one time.”

 _Bigger things to worry about,_ he thought, but he didn’t say. Instead, he allowed his lips to curve into a smile and tilted his head towards Gladio. “I guess you could say I’ve turned a blind eye to them.”

“Oh, _hell_ , Iggy.” Gladio groaned. “I’d want to hit you if your puns weren’t so damn comforting. _Somehow.”_

“Glad to be of service,” he said softly. It was an ice breaker and only that. Truth, but a pun for the sake of lessening anxiety. But perhaps it didn’t, because they lapsed back into silence as they waited for the news on Iris’s condition.

 

“You’re doing well, Megane.”

Ignis spluttered, reaching up to push Aranea’s lance away from his face. “How do you know that word?”

“Shortcake taught it to me. Gotta admit, he surprised me when he started translating that text.”

“He knows it through manga,” Ignis said, and then forced himself not to laugh at the thought of the look of utter _betrayal_ he would have gotten if Prompto were there.

“Ah, those comic books? Women with big tits?”

 _“Aranea.”_ He reached to push his glasses up on reflex, and then remembered he had taking them off for training. “That’s only a particular subset of manga.”

“If you say so. Wait, why do _you_ know that word, then?”

“If there’s a nickname of any variation on _glasses,_ rest assured that I will have heard it.”

“Hm. Makes sense.”

“It’s better than Four Eyes.” He curled his fingers around his daggers and fell into defensive stance. “Shall we go again?”

“Sure thing.” Aranea sounded amused, but he let it slide. He always did. “I’m not holding back on you.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

He’d gotten better, over the long months, well enough to successfully block, if not parry, most of Aranea’s attacks. She was not a forgiving opponent, so he liked to think that showed his progress more than anything else. Cor, when he wasn’t off scouting for tombs and survivors on his own, played _fair–_ in the sense that he didn’t fight to his true potential as a vampire. It was something that they had collectively agreed upon, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t smart.

He _had_ made progress, though. His and the Marshal’s sparring had been exhausting at first. Now he was nearly matching him as well, able to defend if not attack ninety percent of the time. Cor, like Aranea, was pleased with the progress. And he had to hold onto that. Improvement came with small steps, as he very well knew by now.

They’d fashioned the cane into a proper weapon. Reinforced with a thin hidden blade, it was more clunky for using as a blind man than the average white cane, but when times were hard and daemons were more often than not nearby… well. He spent a great deal of time in Lestallum, and he had the city memorized. The fact that he used a cane elsewhere had been too great an opportunity to pass up.

It was with such his modified weapon that he lashed out this time, and felt a laugh bubble up around his lips when he landed hard against Aranea’s shoulder, and she fell back with a startled noise.

_“Damn.”_

He set the tip of the cane back onto the ground. “My apologies.”

“That was brutal. Do it again.”

The chuckle turned into a full laugh. Improvement. He was endlessly frustrated with his shortcomings, because as was human nature. But he was also _inordinately_ proud of his progress when it came to light all at once, in the form of a bruise a former high ranking Niflheim official would sport after their session.

“You kicking her ass, Ignis?”

He turned his head as Iris started up, lips still curved into a smile. “Not quite there yet, I’m afraid.” He tilted his head. “Here for sparring, Iris?”

“Yeah! If you’re finished, that is?”

“Seems we lost track of time. The room is yours.”

“Oooh boy, here’s Pipsqueak back at it again with me.”

 _“Don’t_ call me Pipsqueak,” Iris fired back, gentle amusement hidden beneath an ever hardening exterior. Another casualty of the war, Ignis thought, the front Iris believed she had to put on. He could imagine the scar, from shoulder to ribcage, that she had described to him, quietly, one night after helping the glaives in. She had healed nicely in terms of physical injury, but she was becoming just as scarred at the rest of them. Her upbeat attitude, like Prompto’s, remained to be a source of inspiration.

Aranea’s penchant for nicknames aside, Gladio’s sister had turned into quite the hunter already.

“Listen, you’re always gonna be Pipsqueak to me, alright?”

Ignis forced his expression into one of being neutral. “I best leave you two to it,” he said, “lest I end up caught between two of the fiercest women in our league.” He passed a hand to Iris’s shoulder in goodbye, and leaned down. “Don’t go easy on her, Iris.”

She laughed– innocence would be marred, but perhaps never lost entirely– patting his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Oh! Stop by tonight! I made some adjustments to your jacket.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just _saying_ , it was too damaged to properly repair last time. I did what I could and I need to make sure it’s going to suit you.”

“Much obliged, Iris… so long as it isn’t polka dots,” he joked.

“Ughh, why don’t I go find something to entertain myself?” Aranea barked. “Save the chitchat for later. We’re _training_ now, not talking.”

Ignis stifled a laugh and shared a look with the younger hunter, albeit he couldn’t see.

 

It was… difficult, to say the least, meeting again with Eden. It took two months longer than necessary, a hunt gone wrong leading Cor to bring in a trusted friend for Ignis. There was no real reason to visit the den, then, and increased feedings would only increase his own need for the venom’s effects. So it was with mild trepidation that he finally met up with his regular friend. As it turned out, his hesitance was unwarranted.

“Ignis!” Eden greeted cheerfully, and he felt a tiny bit of his tension float away. “We thought you’d found new donors!”

He smiled. “Just extenuating circumstances. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, now would I?” he joked, and he thought Eden must have been _beaming._

“I sure hope not. You’re one of my favorites.” An extended arm, just like every other time. Ignis took it. “So what can we do for you tonight, dear?” they asked, and he wondered if he imagined the way their hand, clasped on top of his, squeezed. He probably hadn’t. It _was_ a natural thing here.

But not for him. He wouldn’t be doing that again.

“Just the blood, Eden,” he said, softly. But firmly. Boundaries. He now knew which ones he couldn’t cross, no matter how… needy things made him feel. _He_ _would not be doing that again._ Ever.

“Of course.” They didn’t sound surprised, or even put out. Again, he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. Odd as it was, he did consider his host some kind of friend. Even if their… arrangement was out of the ordinary, friends were fair few in between nowadays. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Ignis.”

He nodded, grateful, and followed Eden in for the feeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me cor who knows something's up with iggy but it's his life to live so he doesn't pry. give me daemon slayer iris who gets scars worse than the rest of them because she's fearless af but still is perfectly sunny (and also makes clothes!!) give me crises of faith because _fuck_ stories where the gods turn away and leave it to one human person. give me casual friendship highspecs. ~~give me casual relationship aranea and iris what the fuck is this and where did you pick that ship up from summer~~ give me eden who is 100% accepting of ignis's boundaries and they pick back up like nothing happened because damn if ignis doesn't need the friend right now


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prophecy

“You okay, Iggy?!”

“Never better.” He breathed out slowly, sheathing the blade back at his side. “That’s all of them, is it not?”

“Yeah!” Prompto said cheerfully. He and Ignis had crossed paths and joined forces, on a recovery mission to gather shards for Holly and supplies for Cindy. It was nice to be back together with a friend. It had been… months, now, since they had last seen each other. _Metaphorically speaking_ , Ignis thought, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “For now, anyway. I mean, they’ll come back soon.”

“Best get our supplies and go,” Ignis said, going to collect his cane from where he’d left it leaning against the dilapidated building. “Miss Cindy will be awaiting your return.”

“Hey, I’m going back to the same place you are. She’s been hanging around with Holly a lot!” Prompto led the way into the station, boots crunching over the shattered glass.

“Oh? I hadn’t known.” He followed, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Truth be told, it’s been awhile since I’ve been back to Lestallum. Actually I’ve just returned from an extended stay in Tenebrae, if you’ll believe it.”

“Ooooh– wait, how’d you end up out here for shards then?”

“Holly called me.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Prompto was rummaging through what was left of the cabinets. “I’ve been in, uh, mostly bouncing between places, but Longwythe a lot. Cindy’s been talking about moving back to Hammerhead and taking up the garage again. Can’t stand to be without it.”

He raised his eyebrows. That was both surprising and… unsurprising as well. Cindy and Holly were both strong, stubborn women. He didn’t doubt she could manage, if she did decide to go through with it.

“Were you trying to find out something about Ravus? _Aha!”_

Ignis offered his hands for the supplies, sandwiching the cane between his arm and side. “Yes, albeit unsuccessfully. It seems to have been a well-kept secret amongst the public, so I can’t very well go asking about the late vampire prince’s proclivities and motivations. Niflheim government is in enough of a disarray I’d be lucky to get a straight answer out of anyone right now.”

“Maybe when it settles down? I mean they’re– ow.”

He leaned forward. “You’re alright?” It was a soft enough exclamation, but healing supplies were already becoming precious commodities and infection due to the increased daemonic presence was a large concern these days.

“Yeah, just nicked my hand… no worries! Man, I’m more clumsy than you are nowadays, don’t know how you do it.”

“Oh, I’m hurt more often than you think.” He could practically _hear_ Prompto frown. “Not seriously injured, Prompto, don’t look at me that way.”

“Do you… you hunt, on your own?”

Shaking his head, he stepped back as Prompto stood. “The Marshal doesn’t accompany me any longer, but I’m not on my own yet. I have been training with the glaives in Lestallum, though, when I visit. One on one.”

“Yeah? I was too! How’d you do??”

A quirked smile. “Alright, for a time. Then they trained harder.”

“Hahaha, I got my ass _handed_ to me!” Prompto hummed. “Second time, got myself cornered? Don’t even know how it happened– oh, your eleven.”

Ignis stepped off to the right, murmuring a thanks. “It’s good the Glaives are continuing to train. It’s unfortunate that it took Noctis’s disappearance to trigger such a movement, but… a step in the right direction.”

“Oh.” Prompto fell quiet for a moment. Cold air ruffled Ignis’s hair as they stepped outside and he turned his attention back to Prompto. “Uh, speaking of Noct…”

He was suddenly hesitant; Prompto stalling over words was never a good precursor. A practiced smile and some gentle coaxing, then. “It’s to do with the one year?”

Twelve months missing. Twelve months _missing._ It’s the only thing it _could_ be, Prompto going quiet after mentioning Noct with the date fast approaching. Less than three weeks, and Noct would be gone for a whole _year._

“Yeah, uh… I know we planned to do something, but do you think that maybe I could… um, _not?”_

Ignis paused. Prompto kept moving to the other side of the car.

“It’s just… dude, I hate sayin’ this because you’re you and you and him were–”

“It doesn’t matter.” He pulled the door open, settling their cargo into the back. “You’re grieving as well, Prompto.”

“Yeah, but you two were more,” he murmured, and then raised his voice again. “It’s just… it’s kinda okay? Maybe? When I’m not thinking about it? Which I know is _super_ unhealthy, but, uh… I just… I’m not sure if I can go back to facing it. Right now. Like, getting together makes it feel more permanent or something? And he’s not dead, so–”

“Right,” Ignis interrupted. The grief threatened to choke him from the mere mention. He hadn’t told anyone about those dreams he’d been having. “It’s perfectly fine, Prompto. We hadn’t even discussed a plan yet, we can easily reschedule.”

“But you and Gladio could–”

“He hasn’t responded to me about it yet, anyway. It’s an easy switch.” Ignis smiled, raising his head towards the blonde. “Besides, Noct wouldn’t mind if we didn’t mark the day specifically, now would he?”

“… nah. He’d probably screw with us for awhile, saying we didn’t care about him or something though.” He was smiling. Ignis could hear it in his voice, even if it was sad.

“True. Although we’d just have to remind him he was the one who missed out first.”

Prompto snickered, reaching for the seatbelt as he settled in the driver’s seat. “He’d tell us in every possible way how it wasn’t his fault.”

Three more weeks, and it would be a year. Ignis smiled softly. “… quite.”

“… I don’t want you to be alone for it, though,” Prompto said, at length, when they had pulled out onto the road and silence had ensued.

“I won’t be,” he promised. “Friends await in Lestallum.”

“But… are you sure? I can–”

“I’m sure,” Ignis said firmly.

It was an empty promise.

  

He had no intention in the pity party that would have come in Lestallum, and that asides he wanted to spend the anniversary of Noctis’s disappearance in Galdin Quay. It _was_ near the gathering place of the gods, and, all things considered, there were good memories here. Swimming after sundown and stargazing over the sea. The start of their journey together.

He might be alone, for now, but he still had those memories. He held onto them as though they were the last things he _did_ have, and tried not to think about how maybe that might be true. He _refused_ to believe it might be true. Hope, after all, was their shining beacon in their new world of otherwise unrelenting darkness.

Umbra dutifully arrived just in time for his departure from the city, a _“hey, Ignis, your dog’s running down the road,”_ and not bothering to correct his driver. He had merely opened the door and gave a smile as Umbra had jumped in.

“How does that dog manage to always find you? He’s everywhere!”

It wasn’t common knowledge that Umbra was one of the god’s messengers, and Ignis thought it best to keep it that way. Umbra headbutted his shoulder softly and Ignis chuckled, stroking his hand along the dog’s back. “He’s special,” he said, and smiled more despite himself when Umbra barked and tried to lick his face.

It was a good way to stymie the trepidation, the grief that was once again coming back around to try and swallow him whole. Perhaps, he thought, he _should_ have stayed in Lestallum, to be around people. Their friends. But it didn’t matter now. He was already on his way. He held fast to his belief the Quay was the closest place he could be to Noct, literally and hypothetically, right now.

It kept him going, at the very least.

The anniversary was spent in silence, a rickety chair that hadn’t yet been broken pulled up to the dock, Umbra weaving in between his feet and the debris.

He could still vividly remember the first time they’d come here. Noct, wrapped in Ignis’s coat and gloves and scarf, tucked beneath a wide-brim hat and sunglasses. He’d complained that he’d looked ridiculous. Ignis had privately agreed– in good humor– but those days had been the days where they were all new to Noct’s vampirism, nor had he and Noct been in a relationship yet. It hadn’t precisely been his place, back then. Probably it still wasn’t, but now he wouldn’t have hesitated to tease him. If Noct showed up again… no… _when_ … Ignis wouldn’t hold back next time.

It was with a wry smile that he thought such things, chuckling as Umbra licked at his fingers and wiggled around.

Nothing held back, nothing gone left unsaid this time. Time was too precious a thing.

Waning daylight fell to darkness. He could hear the faintest stirrings of daemons nearby. “To the haven, Umbra,” he urged, getting back to his feet. It was a hike still, and he didn’t want a fight today. “We’ve lingered here too long, I fear.”

Umbra barked, and Ignis followed the click of nails against the long bridge back to the beach. The sanctity of the havens had diminished in the past year; no one quite said it to his face in so many words, but it wasn’t safe to be out alone overnight any longer. That was where Umbra came in, he supposed; it wasn’t the first time they had camped together and he’d begun to wonder if it was the dog who came on instinct, or the gods who sent him on requirement. Probably not the latter. But maybe a combination of both. Or neither. He didn’t know.

He didn’t mind. There was probably something to be said that his most steadfast companion was a _dog_ now, but Umbra curled up next to him in his one-person tent and the warmth of his weight was comfortable.

“You’ve got me, then, Umbra?” He scratched his fingers through the fur at the top of his head. “Wake me if the daemons come too close?”

Umbra huffed, resting his chin on Ignis’s chest.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

A bit of a grumble came in reply, and Ignis smiled as he settled his hand along the canine’s back. He couldn’t ask for a better bodyguard. He trusted him with his life. He _had_ to, given it was only the two of them. That asides, sleep, as it ever was these days, full of work and travel and daemon slaying, came over him quickly as Umbra crawled further to drape himself over Ignis.

 

_“A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past.”_

Noctis like he’d never seen him, perhaps a decade older, the Ring of the Lucii on his finger and sitting on the throne. Dark hair longer, the beginnings of a beard, determination in his eyes and Ignis was struck still.

_“Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own.”_

The summoning of the armiger, and the old kings Ignis was now familiar with. And then a hand on a blade, and the old gods surging forward, each of the armiger casting forth their weapon into _Noctis’s body._ Then he was watching in horror as Noctis’s hand fell away from his own blade, body slumping back. He couldn’t move.

_"The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid."_

Noctis, in the Astral plane, pale skinned with the might of the Ring burning beneath. Gods, he was beautiful and terrifying and Ignis was _horrified._

_"To cast out the Usurper and usher in dawn's light will cost the life of the Chosen."_

A flash of armiger and old magic, Noctis and Ardyn in battle.

_"Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all."_

The four of them, and Ignis’s breath whisked in through a too tight throat. All older, around the campfire, all with tears in their eyes and on their faces. And Noct… _and Noct…_

_"Now enter into Reflection, that the Light of Providence shine within."_

Ignis choked on a sob as he came awake, scrabbling up in the darkness. He was reaching for things he couldn’t have– Noct was _gone_ – no, no, _no, no–_ he was not. He was gone, but he wasn’t… he wasn’t _dead–_ yet, something in his mind argued– _no, no, no, no, no, no no no–_

“What… what… did I just see…”

There was a whine, long and low, at his side. The sound of Umbra snuffling at the ground.

“A vision of what’s to come…?” He shuddered at giving voice to the words, the breath punched out of his lungs again. No, it couldn’t be. This was just… it was… a bad dream. Nothing more. Nothing…

Umbra whined again, nudging his head against Ignis’s arm.

A bad dream. That was all. That was all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ง'̀-'́)ง 
> 
> ヽ༼ಢ_ಢ༽ﾉ
> 
> ~~you know, I still think that Pryna could hold the power to show the future, and Umbra the past... mostly because of that part with Pryna in Omen, and how she shows Ignis the vision in Episode Ignis... meanwhile Umbra can take them back into the past... but as far as the wikia says, Pryna's for dreams and visions so either way really works here xD~~ anyway what a time to see the prophecy huh


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where the heart is, so they say

Gladio shouldn’t have indulged him in drink, he thought, pressing two fingers to either of the throbbing aches settled beneath his temples. The hangover was spectacular.

Somehow, Gladio seemed to have avoided it altogether. “Here.” He tapped the cool glass against Ignis’s hand, and he took it carefully, feeling the pop and fizz of the seltzer tablet over the edge of the glass.

“… much obliged.” A small sip, and a repressed shudder at the bland taste.

“Sorry. No lemon.” Gladio flopped down next to him. “Probably tastes like shit plain.”

Ignis smiled thinly. “For the best, probably.” He forced another two swallows and set it on the table. “Haven’t been this nauseous since I accidentally gave myself food poisoning.”

“Yeah, well, which one’s worse, I guess.”

Ignis quirked a slightly more genuine smile. “I’d take the hangover, I think. Slightly less vomiting, thus far.” Relaxing sounded heavenly, though, so he followed Gladio’s example and eased back into the couch cushions. It wasn’t a comfortable sofa, as far as they went, but his breath escaped in a rush as he let his shoulders slump. He was too tense, even after the drinking escapade last night. Or maybe because.

He didn’t even remember calling him. He vividly recalled being an utter wreck following the dream at the Quay, and then, he supposed, he had gone searching for… familiar comfort. A friend. The one who had been there the longest outside of Noctis himself. He remembered drinking, and then… nothing concrete, to be honest, right up until the point he had woken, nauseous and aching, on Gladio’s couch and tucked haphazardly beneath a blanket.

“Haven’t seen you pack it away like that in a long time,” Gladio said. He was conversational, but there was something _more_ in his voice. They would get to it in a moment, Ignis was certain.

“True.” He draped an arm across his stomach. He’d already spent the morning emptying the contents of it and prayed for the effervescent tablet to stay down. “Before we left the Crown City, even.”

“Think it was the day after you officially joined Crownsguard.”

“Right… truly a _horrible_ celebration.”

Gladio snorted, nudging Ignis’s shoulder. “You enjoyed it. We got you to do karaoke.”

“So I have been reminded _endlessly_.”

After huffing a laugh, Gladio fell into silence.

Ignis waited.

“Soo…”

“… ah.”

“You knew I was gonna bring it up, so, yeah.” Gladio was looking at him too closely. His gaze made him want to squirm, and he couldn’t even _see_. “Know it was the anniversary and all, but you came here saying you had something you couldn’t tell. Keeping secrets.”

Ignis felt his stomach drop, just a little. He had several secrets, none of which he wanted to talk about. The events in Altissia had remained the largest until this dream, which was… _just_ a dream. He refused to entertain otherwise, and there was no reason to worry Gladio with it.

“Don’t look so freaked, you didn’t spill. Thought you would after you started getting touchy-feely, but nothing.”

“Ah…” He had nothing to say in his defense, nor could he speak of his relief to the matter, so he repeated the singular syllable for time. _Touchy-feely,_ he had said, and Ignis thought back, briefly, to the small handful of times he had been intoxicated enough to feel the effects. He truly _was_ that type of person, wasn’t he? He felt embarrassment flush his cheeks, replacing one worry with another. “I didn’t… attempt to initiate anything, did I…?” he asked slowly.

“Heh, no, Iggy. Well, mostly not.”

“Oh Gods.”

It was so immediate and reflexive that it drew a proper laugh from Gladio. “You got a little handsy, talking about Noct, don’t know if your drunk goggles were making you see him or what. I dumped your ass on the couch and waited ‘til you passed out.”

That was worth a sigh of relief, he thought, given the last time he’d let his inhibitions down had been the time he’d had sex with Eden. If he’d seriously tried anything with Gladio, he wasn’t certain he’d ever live it down. He wasn’t certain Gladio would _let_ him live it down if he had. As it were, he wasn’t certain if he would now.

“Thank you, Gladio… truly.” Pathetic though it were to _once again_ give in to the stress of the situation, at least it was Gladio this time. Someone who knew him well enough to wrangle him away from bad choices, or yell at him if he went through with them.

The nausea swelled and he sank lower on the couch. _Mostly_ wrangle him away from bad choices, he thought. His own fault. He swallowed twice and kept speaking. “I… perhaps it was unwise to spend the anniversary alone.”

He couldn’t tell him the truth. Even if he could, he didn't want to. It was bad enough that he had dreamt it; uneasiness need not be shared amongst them. Gods knew they had enough of it already. Perhaps he should have stayed in Lestallum, but he hadn’t. The one good thing was that he’d been the only one to witness his grief and inevitable anxiety.

“Maybe.” Gladio shrugged. “Can’t tell you that.” He paused, and then “But that’s not a _secret_.”

If his smile was a little wry, well, it had been some time since they had been together. He had forgotten how very _perceptive_ Gladiolus could be.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m not gonna force you or anything. Sometimes you gotta deal with shit your own way, I know.”

And how so very kind, as well.

“But you know I’m here if you want to talk. Always have been. Know I’ve not been so reliable lately, but I’m still here.”

“… thank you, Gladio.”

“Know I’m not the biggest advocate on this touchy-feely crap, but… it’s been a nasty year.”

That was one way to put it. The unspoken assumption that it would only get worse if Noctis didn’t return to usher in the light– _king of kings, banish the darkness, blood price–_ remained that. They had only just begun to adapt. Perhaps with time it wouldn’t be so much of a struggle, as with the blindness.

“Besides,” Gladio said, “if your secret’s about anything I think it is, you don’t need to tell me at all.”

He ought to let it go. The tired, hungover part of him didn’t let it; Ignis raised his eyebrows, and angled his chin towards Gladio. “Oh?” If he hadn’t talked, there was no way Gladio would know.

“Your eyes.” Oh. “Don’t know what you did when we split up back in Altissia but I can almost guarantee you did something _stupid_.”

Not stupid. Well, not stupid to _him._ “I think I recall you telling me that back then, too,” he said lightly.

He didn’t think Gladio smiled. “I saw those scars, Iggy. They were… weird. Like burns. And they healed way too damn fast for something that left you _blind.”_ Now he was curious as to what the scars _had_ looked like immediately following the event– burns, fitting, it had _felt_ like burning– but it was quickly forgotten. “Don’t know what you managed to do to save Noct’s life, but you did something. _You_ made some choice, and you knew what you were doing.”

So perceptive. Ignis smiled, and he reckoned that that was answer enough in itself. It was his story, his ordeal, something he would never share with the others if he had a say. But… yes. They weren’t stupid. Likely, Prompto had come to something of the same conclusion. He didn’t mind their guessing, even if he wouldn’t bore them with the details.

“So stupid, Iggy.”

He missed this. Casual companionship, gentle banter, the press of warmth up against his side. Gods he missed Noct, but he missed this too.

If the past year had taught him anything, it was enjoying it while it lasted.

Turning away to hide his smile, Ignis picked up his glass of water again.

 

“How’s about youse go ahead and put this on now, and I’ll take the old one off your hands for ya?”

“Still peddling your wares?” Ignis murmured, resting his hand on the cold railing.

“Ignis!” Footsteps hurried across the dock. “What are youse doing here? Ya need something?”

“Dino,” he greeted. “Passing by. I’m surprised to see you here, actually. I’d heard you were in Caem. With Coctura?”

“Eheheh, well, she’s been busy, ain’t she? Can’t let her pick up all the work. Besides…” Dino’s voice projected away. “Big stuff on the horizon. Actually, even.”

“Oh?”

“You haven’t heard? Oho, and here I thought I was the last one to know!”

Interest piqued, Ignis thought back to the latest phone call with Iris. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, but if there was news from the Quay, Lestallum would know first and Iris was there more often than not when she wasn’t hunting. His eyes narrowed slightly. “My informative from Lestallum hasn’t mentioned anything.” He raised his chin towards the rush of the waves. “What’s happened?”

“Well,” Dino lowered his voice, “word has it they found His Majesty’s ship.”

_“What?”_

“Woah, youse scared me. Careful there, Igster. But yeah, off the coast of Angelgard! They’re havin’ some trouble bringing her back in and the like, but she’s there.”

Why hadn’t Iris _told_ him? _So you don’t get your hopes up,_ said the rational part in his mind. He knew that was the case; waiting for more a concrete report was the best course of action, but now Ignis would worry about it regardless. He’d have to mention it so the Lestallum hunters didn’t think they had to keep him in the dark any longer. “Trouble?”

“Well, there’s always been problems at that island, hasn’t there? All those weird feelin’s people get. Like somethin’ don’t want them there.” The gods, likely. Ignis’s lips twitched down. “But now there’s all the daemons, and the waters are rough. ‘s a difficult thing, huh?”

“Yes…” Ignis murmured. “So it seems.”

If the ship was there, so was Noct. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did. Intuition, he supposed, and he trusted the feeling. So close and so far.

… someday soon, their ship would come in, and Noct would come home.

 

Imagination was a curious thing. He was used to dreaming very little, and rarely remembering them when he woke. Now Ignis found he was remembering _everything_ from his subconscious, plucking things out when he was awake to go over later in the day. It was both infuriating and fascinating.

When he, Prompto, and Gladio met up with Iris and Talcott for catching up, Ignis dreamed about Noct, and the prophecy, and the kings with their weapons upon the dais. The night he’d ended up in hospital over a careless dualhorn battle, he’d dreamt about being ten years old, and stargazing, and huddling under blankets with a quiet Noct.

The nights he was exhausted, sure he wouldn’t dream, he was awake half the night with nightmares. The nights he was wide awake, when he finally did fall asleep, he was dreamless.

On top of all of that, he had discovered that the… _foreboding_ dreams came only when Umbra was near. Despite what he had told Gladio after the one year– or lack thereof– Ignis had quickly come to terms that they were _not_ just dreams. With one of the messengers sending them, surely they couldn’t be such a simple thing. To allow himself to continue thinking that they were was a grave miscalculation, not… not that he knew what to _do_ with the information.

He didn’t see how he could change the prophecy without Noctis there, or himself at Noctis’s side. He had seen the four of them together again, _older,_ and maybe that implied Noct wouldn't return until then. They would see him again, before his… death, however, and _that_ was when Ignis would be able to step in. And do what… well. That he wasn’t sure. He would figure it out in time.

For now…

“How does it look?” He couldn’t quite help the excitement in his voice, but lack of vision did tend to only allow for running his fingers over the excavated tomb. He had been hearing stories of the glaive recovering them, but this was the first he’d had the privilege of going along with them on the mission to assist.

“Mm, it’s seen better days. The face’s been busted up.”

“Oh?” He raised his hand slightly, aiming to feel for it. “May I?” These were precious. If a touch could disintegrate it further, he would very much rather go without. It was ridiculous, but he thought he could feel _Noct_ in these tombs. He knew it was the magic, the old king’s powers, and every connection to the Crystal. But it felt like he was _doing_ something, helping to build a new arsenal for when Noct returned.

“Yeah, have at it.”

“We need to start transportation.”

Ignis rest his hand on the crumpling detail of the tomb, feeling for the details that might still be there. “Yes,” he agreed, and allowed himself to be swept up in the recovery effort once again.

 

They lit up Insomnia.

It was a strange thing, the idea of it. Ignis was knee-deep in the Slough when he heard, a text from one of his confidants in the city. He barely believed the words, read aloud in the same, robotically cheerful voice as always. He could barely feel the cold and wet of the lake. They had moved back into Insomnia.

It was as exciting as it was gut-wrenching.

 _You gonna go?_ Gladiolus’s text was blunt and unassuming, coming not a whole day after the news started to spread. Ignis was poised to immediately respond, voiceover ready to send a text in reply. And then he paused, uncertain.

Exciting because they had finally taken back the city. Or were well on their way, able to set up a base there in order to further extend their reach. There was power back in the city, the group of glaives that had been sent there would be able to at least partially combat the daemon infestation there, and Noct would return to it to finally bring light back to the world… Insomnia was their _home._ _Theirs._ It had been ages ago that they promised to take it back, felt like a lifetime that it was taken away. And now… progress.

But it also made him feel ill, sick to his stomach with the thought that they were starting to rebuild Insomnia and Noct wasn’t here to see it. One day? Of course. But now… now, when their king should have been the first one to set foot back in the city… after everything… he was missing out. He was missing out on the progress his kingdom was making.

He wanted to go back. He _wanted to go back._

His response wasn’t immediate, but he sent a reply back to Gladio quickly enough regardless. Hesitation, but no real deliberation.

_We should wait for our king._

It wasn’t home without Noct, in any case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the game implies the boys went back (and ten years is a long time to wait, depending on when, canonically, they started moving base there) but I like the idea that they got to experience the city all together, in the end


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — ten

**_II_ **

“Where’s Eden?”

“Oh… hadn’t you heard?”

“Evidently not.”

Restless. Nervous. Faked smiles and the need for venom.

“They left. Got into some trouble with the hunters and took off.”

Eden was  _ gone? _

“Are they coming back?”

“Likely not, honey. But we’ll find you a suitable host here real quick. Do you have anyone in mind?”

It felt  _ strange,  _ bartering for a vampire host after almost two years with Eden. “… whoever’s available,” Ignis said, and the words felt heavy on his tongue.

The press of an unfamiliar pair of fangs into his forearm felt strange, too, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice.

It was just another thing he had to do.

 

No one felt right. Not in the way that Eden had; nowhere  _ near _ the way that Noctis did. It was teeth in skin and a high for both of them, and then few words and a parting of ways. He didn’t stay with one donor long, moving from one vamp den to the next. There were plenty to be found with the complete darkness these days. There were even more he didn’t trust, but he picked his battles and picked them carefully.

It wasn’t until far too late that Ignis realized the repeated bites were  _ scarring, _ slightly raised patches of two identical marks littering his neck and wrists and arms. He made a point to change the location for the bite after that, but the damage was done.

In the end, it was just another scar. It wouldn’t be his first, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

 

**_III_ **

“My boy, this is amazing.”

Weskham was too kind; Ignis rather thought the praise made him  _ glow _ all the same. It had been a long while since he had had anything to be sheepish over, but this was the man of talent, the chef who had delivered so many stunning dishes back in Altissia.

“Thank you,” he said softly, and collected the pan from the stove. “But I’m afraid I haven’t even put the hollandaise on yet, Weskham. You’re spoiling me.”

“If anyone’s spoiling anyone, you’re spoiling me. I haven’t eaten this good since I left Altissia.”

“You’re exaggerating, surely.”

“I’m not.”

Ignis plucked the towel from the cupboard to wipe clean the edges of the plate, and then gestured towards the table. “I don’t get opportunity to cook like this often, I’ll admit.”

“Have you ever thought about going into the restaurant business? You’d be sublime in a professional kitchen.”

A restaurant? Ignis set the plate down, fingertips hesitating against the tabletop. He… could  _ imagine _ it. Something in the king’s name, a refuge for hunter and hunted alike in this time of madness. A menu full of all of his recipes. Dishes from Insomnia and Galahd, Hammerhead, Lestallum, and perhaps the gods themselves, he thought, fondly reminiscing the time Gentiana had cooked for him. 

… pastries from Tenebrae. 

He smiled, gentle and weary. “Maybe one day.”

 

**_IV_ **

“How is Insomnia?”

“… beautiful.”

The glaive he was talking to was young, but battle hardened. They’d met before; she’d been described to him. Wine colored hair and green eyes, a whole foot shorter than him but just as lethal with magic. They’d trained together. He’d been thrilled with how well she fought.

“It’s still a mess… it’s going to be a mess until we can get the light back, but I’ve been there a few times… there’s so much  _ improvement… _ I guess I’d see it different from you guys would, though. Sorry.”

“Quite all right. Altissia has changed much as well, I’ve been told.”

“It has,” she agreed. “I’ve been back… it’s amazing. Have you… been back to the Crown City, yet?”

Ignis shook his head.

“Well… she’ll wait for you. We won’t let anything happen to that city anymore.”

He nodded, reaching out a hand to press a palm to her shoulder. “Thank you. We owe the glaive a lot in these times of need.”

“You don’t owe us anything, Ignis. You’re part of the glaive, too.”

“Yes…” A fond thought. “And we all will go home eventually.”

“We’ll go home to the light.”

They would. They had to.

 

**_V_ **

“… have you ever wondered if he’s gone forever?” A taboo thought, one he could barely bring himself to say. But it was a crisis of conscience and too vivid dreams, a healing wound he could still feel the poison crawling through. A rough five years.

“Nah. Maybe. I dunno.” Aranea nudged at his shoulder with a stocking foot, sprawled out on the sofa as Ignis sorted papers on the floor. Their base of operation was nothing more than a shack, spruced up with furniture that had seen better days. Not much in way of anything to look forward to for having crossed the Lucian Sound but they were awaiting the second wave of hunters. “You couldn’t use that magic of yours if he was, huh?”

Scarred hands paused, a fingertip pressed under the corner of a page to keep his place. “I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“The glaive possesses more powers than we do,” he said quietly.

“Because of Nox Fleuret, you told me. Yeah. But it’s  _ Kings_glaive, Four Eyes. No glaive without a king.” 

A hard truth to accept, some days. Not for a lack of want, however.

“Don’t give up on him now. I don’t know how you can have so much patience all the time, but it's been five years. Doubting him now would just be stupid.” 

He knew. Of course. Sometimes he thought he just needed to  _ hear _ it from someone else.

“Ugh, since when do I have to give  _ Ignis Scientia _ advice?” Aranea groaned. “You’re the one good for inspirational speeches, not me.”

“The Commodore, giving advice,” he murmured. His lips pulled into a smile. “Truly a terrifying prospect.”

“Oh, blow it out your–”

_ “Aranea–  _ no, do  _ not _ touch my hair!”

 

**_VI_ **

“What the hell is that thing on your face?”

Ignis glanced up. “What is it?”

“Hey! It’s not my fault you haven’t seen me in over a year! My face has changed!”

“He’s got some toothpicks on his face.” 

“Toothpicks?!”

Gladio took Ignis’s hand, extending it towards their blonde friend. “You gotta feel this, but you might cut your hand.”

“It’s a beard!” Prompto retorted. Wailed, really, but it didn’t stop him from reaching forward to snatch Ignis’s hand from Gladio’s. “It’s really nice, Iggy!”

It was effortless to let Prompto guide his fingers, to let his knuckles brush against the scruff of hair having grown there. He wasn’t much in a frame of mind to go around feeling  _ people, _ but it was Prompto, Gladio. He wanted to know everything new with them. He wanted everything he could from them, given they rarely saw each other anymore. He thought he would never get used to that.

“Hmm. Very nice, I’d say.”

“See?!  _ See??” _

“He’s just fucking with you,” Gladio said, and Prompto gave a sharp inhale.

“Wait–  _ Iggy, _ you’re not!” 

He thought he might have smirked as he lifted his hand to pat Prompto’s cheek. “It’s a fine beard, Prompto. I look forward to seeing it in another year.”

“Yeah, maybe it’ll be less sparse.”

“Hey!! At least I don’t have a  _ ponytail!” _

Ignis spluttered. “You’ve what?” He looked towards Gladio, disbelief on face and in tone. “You failed to mention that.”

“Eh, not important.”

“I seem to recall your previous thoughts on ponytails and man buns.”

He could practically  _ hear _ him shrug. “It’s convenient. How come you haven’t changed at all?”

Ignis shrugged himself. “No need, I suppose.”

“His hair’s different,” Prompto chirped. “I like it.”

“Oh, thank you. Although I do admit it’s more for ease than aesthetics…”

“Well I like it!”

“He’s just sucking up.”

_ “Dude!” _

They were being too loud, too excited. But it had been so long; Ignis wanted to let themselves be, and so they were.

 

**_VII_ **

“Can we really fault him, though?”

Ignis glanced up, a finger reaching to tap the pause on the recording. It was no question who Talcott was talking about; there was no question given what they were studying.

“I guess maybe I don’t… I just think… after what happened to him…”

Ignis couldn’t help but let his shoulders slump with a sigh. The earbud situated in his ear fell out; he caught it before it could fall to the tabletop. “Subjectively speaking, no, we can’t. It’s easy to condemn him, especially now. But there is so much to Ardyn, even after knowing what we know now.”

“What he did wasn’t right, but…”

Never would have Ignis thought he would be sympathizing with the Chancellor of Niflheim– the Accursed– and much less having this conversation with  _ Talcott, _ of all people. “But his motivations are eerily familiar,” he said quietly, and put the earbud back in despite not returning to his transcript yet. “Human ambition. And the mistakes we make along the way.”

“How different would it have been if he’d been king two thousand years ago?”

He shook his head. “Hard telling, that.”

Talcott made a small noise. He closed his book. “King Noctis will defeat the Starscourge for good, though. So nothing like this has to happen again.”

“Right.”

“And for better or worse, Ardyn will be free…”

For better or for worse indeed. He liked to believe Ardyn would find his peace after everything the Astrals and the Founder King had done. He, at the very least, deserved that. They all did, in the end.

“I think King Noctis would like that,” Talcott said, and stood to collect another book.

“… I think so, too,” Ignis said quietly, and pressed play on the recording again.

 

**_VIII_ **

He never thought he would go back to hunting vampires. Not since Noctis, not since that day in the city eight years ago when everything had changed. Not since Noct had fallen in love with him, and he had let himself give into the feelings he had for him as well. Not since Noct had begun to put his fangs in his throat and Ignis had willingly offered himself up to it.

But, as he slipped the blade free of the vampire’s chest, hands covered in blood and scars, here he was.

Eight years of darkness meant the creatures of the night no longer feared  _ anything. _ On top of the daemons, renewed hunting efforts for the vampire population had had to be reinstated. Very begrudgingly, they had let Ignis rejoin. He figured the hesitation had something to do with the many semi-translucent scars he wore on his skin, but they needed strong fighters and Ignis, blinded and scarred or not, had always been that. They  _ had _ accepted, but he had never been  _ truly _ so.

That was fine. He didn’t mind.

He avoided it when he could, leaving the peaceful clans to their business. But there were too many that  _ wanted _ to kill humans– turn humans and then leave them to their own terrors.

It felt hypocritical, but here he was.

He didn’t want to be here.

Ignis sighed, and wiped his blades on his coat.

 

**_IX_ **

“Umbra.”

Ignis cocked his head, tilting to listen for anyone in the nearby vicinity. There wasn’t. So he rushed forward to the barking, folding to his knees as the click of canine toenails on cement fell silent.

“How have you been, boy?” he asked, and buried his fingers in the dog’s fur to give him a thorough ruffling. Umbra barked, and wiggled; Ignis took that to mean  _ I’ve been good, thank you. _ “Is everything alright? How is Gentiana?” (She remained, after how she had watched over Lady Lunafreya, the one Astral Ignis would accept as friend.)

Another bark and wiggle.

Ignis hummed and scratched behind his ears. “It’s been awhile. Have you something new for me?”

Umbra was the reason for all of those dreams. Premonitions, prophecies. He had long since figured that out. He’d met with Gentiana, and she had told them that they were true. He was seeing a version of the future. He hadn’t taken her wording for granted:  _ a version of the future. _ It wasn’t set in stone. The future never could be.

He’d had nightmares along the same realm, after those first few times experiencing the premonitions. But they were different than the ones he was pulled into on the nights Umbra curled at his feet or sprawled across his chest; those were his unconscious, but Umbra’s visions were so much more real.

Sometimes, he saw other things. The Citadel. The Astrals. Ardyn. But mostly it was Noct. He didn’t even bother to think how that wasn’t a surprise. He saw Noct face to face with Regis, the former with his fangs bared and the latter with an indescribable expression. Ignis would liken it to humor, but then, he doubted Regis would have found any of this funny. Or perhaps he would have. He had always had a questionable sense of humor, Ignis thought with a fond smile.

(Sometimes, when he wasn’t dreaming of the future, he was reliving the past while he slept. Meeting Noct. Regis sneaking him and Noct out for hide and seek. The consequent chastisement Clarus had given the king afterwards. Noctis’s birthdays. The one surprise party the others had thrown for  _ Ignis _ one February morning that he had expected to be just another day. Good days. The memories of those got him by, on the bad ones.)

Umbra rolled onto his back, and Ignis laughed, scratching his stomach.

He dreamt of– unsurprisingly– Noctis, he dreamt of the throne and the sacrifice and felt the terror on the back of his tongue. And then he dreamt about him and Noctis, Prompto and Gladio, at their current ages, sprawled out on a restaurant booth and talking about the future. It was… nice.

It was good.

 

**_X_ **

Waking so early was, these days, uncommon, but not unwelcome; it gave him time to prepare for the day, sprawled out across his tent. To fix the blankets and burrow into them and think of sleeping for an hour longer, if only he could tell what he’d woken up for.

Nothing. 

And then  _ everything_. 

_ Confusion, _ and surprise, and  _ amusement; _ horror and nervous anticipation in rounds, all so quickly that Ignis could barely decipher each before it cycled onto the next. But he was still half asleep. He wasn’t feeling those things.  _ He  _ wasn’t.

“Noct…” he whispered, and then his phone started ringing.

“Where?” he breathed in greeting, and there was an onslaught of his own nerves bubbling up in his stomach, so strong he could barely speak. He pressed the phone closer to his ear, and waited.

_ “Hammerhead, soon.” _ It was Cor. _ “Talcott picked him up. They’re about three hours out.” _

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he said immediately.

_“I said three hours–”_ Cor sighed, but he sounded _happy._ Ignis felt like he couldn’t _breathe._ _“The others are already on their way. I’ll expect you in Insomnia soon after.”_

“Yes,” he murmured. “Of course.” 

Noct. 

Insomnia. 

_ Home. _

Home. They were going home. Noct was coming home.

When Cor ended the call, Ignis was helpless to the sudden swell of emotion. His own. Or perhaps Noctis’s, too. Ten years of aching and wishing, and now the light would return because  _ Noctis was home. _ He put his face in his hands, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anybody who thought I'd write as many chapters for the years Noct spent gone was silly and therefore I expect absolutely no one thought I would LOL (he was only gone for a couple chapters but I was getting _bored_ without writing him) so a bit of an amalgamation of things happening and we're back... on somewhat of a track *fingerguns*
> 
> _Noct is coming home_


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion

Ten years, and Ignis thought three hours would then be the death of him. It took a little longer to get to Hammerhead, took a little longer than he had expected to get his emotions back under control and even then, he hadn’t. How could he? Noct was back. Noct would be here. Noct would go home with them–

– _and die on the throne, fulfill the Astral’s prophecy and save the world from darkness–_

– no. _No._ Ignis refused to believe that. Maybe once, but not now, not after ten years, no matter what those dreams told him. And, that asides, he wouldn’t let Noct go to the throne by himself. He was always by himself in those dreams. Ignis would _not_ allow it. With luck– or a sacrifice, another he was prepared to make– he would not allow this prophecy to be fulfilled.

But he couldn’t think about that right now. Noct was coming back. Noct was coming home. Noct was–

“Iggy!”

Prompto grabbed his arm, and Ignis, ungracefully, nearly fell in his haste to get to his feet. He was nervous. He was… he was as nervous as he had been twenty-six years ago, twenty-six years ago when he had met Noctis as a young child. Twenty-six years to make this moment, and he had to swallow down his nervous excitement when he heard footsteps crunching through the dirt and gravel of Hammerhead’s parking lot.

Noct was back. Noct was back. Noct, Noct, _Noct, Noct, Noct–_

“Well, well,” he found himself saying. “You kept us waiting.”

“Not like I wanted to,” Noct said softly.

He was staring. Ignis could _feel_ him staring and he looked back at him, still unseeing, but basking the feel of Noctis’s gaze on his skin– so very warm like sun that they would bring back to the world– and then just as _intense–_ and even more intense, changing from what he imagined to be the same soft, dopey-eyed look he must have been giving Noct–

Ignis tilted his head, about to open his mouth to question the change in intensity, and then he found himself being kissed, a hand burying into his hair and urgency against his mouth. Body bracketing his, fingertips pressing hard into his shoulder. _Possessive_.

 _Bloody hell,_ he thought. Thought it furtively, even, hands wanting to settle against Noctis’s hips and pull him in because it had been _ten years_. He wanted everything Noctis had to give. He wanted to give everything to Noct and even _this_ was provoking reactions not suitable for public. But instead of letting his attention roam, he took Noctis’s face in his hands instead, held on tightly, and kissed him as hard as he dared.

He was exactly as he’d pictured him; older now, the same as in his visions, hair longer, stubble scraping against Ignis’s chin, but perfect, gorgeous–

Noctis. Noctis. His Noctis, his king, his Majesty–

From behind them, Gladio gave a low whistle, and Noctis pulled back with a gasp. His fangs scraped against Ignis’s on the way off, and Ignis thought he might have made some, vaguely needy noise. He would pray that he hadn’t, but he hadn’t prayed in almost ten years.

He idly rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth. “Noct?” he asked.

“… we’ve got work to do,” Noct muttered, but he was still _staring–_ work. Right. They had work to do. First. And then… and then.

Ignis nodded, gesturing to the diner.

 

“You have _scars.”_

“Mmph.” Ignis’s back hit the wall of the caravan, mostly empty and overly dusty. “Yes. These ten years haven’t been particularly kind–”

 _“Vampire scars,”_ Noctis spat, and captured his mouth in another bruising kiss.

Oh. _Oh._ The possessiveness from earlier. Jealousy. Ignis _laughed,_ sharp and loud, in between kissing him back and pulling at the tattered shirt Noct was wearing. “I needed to be sure I wouldn’t be a liability– when you came back.”

“You let someone _bite_ you.”

“A business transaction.” He shoved Noctis’s pants to his knees. “Nothing more.”

“You–” The noise Noct made when Ignis curled calloused fingers around his length was sinful, and delicious, and _Etro’s ass, he had missed him– “Ignis–_ wait– I should be–”

“Feeding.”

“No, giving you–”

“No.”

“But–”

“Have you had an orgasm in the past ten years?”

“Oh God– have _you??”_

“I’ve been conscious.” He kissed him harder, and passed the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock. “I have two hands and a vivid imagination, I assure you,” and Noct moaned as Ignis bit his lip.

“Did you– did you– think of me?”

“Would I think of anyone else?”

“I–” Through the arousal, a strange hint to Noctis’s tone. Uncertainty, perhaps. “I don’t know,” Noctis murmured. “I don’t know what… what you’ve done the past _ten years–_ _who_ – who you’ve done…”

“No one.” It was a lie, but Eden had been a mistake he had made so many years ago. He would tell Noct eventually, but it didn’t need apply now. “I’ve only ever thought of you, Noct.” That was _not_ a lie. He had only ever been able to think of little else.

“I couldn’t– the past ten years, I wasn’t _aware…_ but going into the Crystal… waking up in A–Angelgard– _Gods–”_ Hands scrabbled for purchase against the long disused stovetop. “You, only you– and then I come back, and you smell like _them_ –”

“Only _you,”_ Ignis promised. “It will only ever be you.”

Orgasm caught Noct on an upward drag of Ignis’s hand and he cried out as he came; Ignis committed that sound to memory, the feel of Noctis’s cock and Noctis’s come on his fingers. The sound of his breathing. The smell of earth and sweat and sex.

It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Ignis relinquished the grip on Noctis’s royal cock, smiling, smirking. He raised his hand to his mouth to let his tongue flick over the pads of his fingers.

“Oh my God.”

He could feel the arousal rushing through _Noct’s_ veins. He never had quite understood how they’d gotten there, sharing emotions, but he figured it must have been caused by the sharing of their blood, and Ignis didn’t mind. They had always shared so much, anyway. What was one more thing? He should ask if Noct could feel _him,_ but he wouldn’t do it now. It didn’t matter.

“You have an oral fixation or something, don’t you...”

He raised his eyebrows. “I had my hand around your cock, Noctis, not my mouth.”

“Not _yet,”_ Noct muttered, and Ignis hummed a mild agreement. For now, he wanted something different, and he was positive it was something Noct _needed_ , too.

“Drink me, Noct.”

“That so shouldn’t be as hot as it is,” Noct muttered, but he was already moving, straightening up, leaning forward to clear the distance between them again.

“And yet it is.” Ignis wanted to tangle his fingers in that mess of his hair, but withheld for the moment. “Mark me as your own,” he said, instead, and bared his throat to him again.

Noctis’s breath was a gasp, and then fangs were in his neck once again. It was agony, and bliss. A pain he was used to, welcomed. _Deeper_ , somehow. Heavier, and he thought his knees might have buckled from the sheer _gravity_ of the moment. Ten years; all of this, always for him. He clutched onto his vampire king and surrendered to the pleasure.

 

“Oh, fuck.”

Ignis grumbled a noise of agreement, pressing into the cool of Noctis’s skin against his. The bed was small and cramped and dusty, and they were _sweating_ even in the cool air. He thought he was blood-stained and bruised– no, he was certain he was. He could feel the throb of every aching point in his body. But it was as steady as the beating of his heart, and as comforting as the feel of Noctis’s pulse against his hands. “We’ve done plenty of that,” he finally managed, turning his head from the pillow.

Noctis smiled, emotions lazy and pleased. “You say that like you’ve had enough.”

He couldn’t help a small grimace. “I’m not twenty-two anymore, Noct.”

“… yeah, I know.”

“A moment, then,” he said, feeling hazy. He’d urged Noct too far in his feeding, but he didn’t mind. He was nearly certain there was no more _celebration_ to be had for the night; the mood of their reunion had changed, easing from desperate touching and grasping to making _love_ , the weight of the past ten years apart falling from his shoulders. Long, deep kisses through the blood loss, hitched breath and traded emotion.

Noct breathed out slowly at his side. There were words on the horizon.

Ignis let him take his time.

“Have you… been okay?” It took awhile, and his words were hesitant. The pull and fall of two desperate bodies crashing against each other had been exchanged for this. “The past ten years…?”

“As good as to be expected.” He couldn’t lie and say they had been _fine._ Noctis would see through it, anyway. “We coped, safe in the knowledge that you would return to us,” he said, combing his fingers through Noctis’s hair.

“Yeah, but you…” He tilted his head up, reaching a hand to press against Ignis’s cheek. “You had it worse.” Fingertips against old scars. “… you put the ring on.”

He was woozy, body aching and tired, but those words woke him up. It wasn’t as if he had forgotten about that day ten years ago, but with the Ring of the Lucii gone with Noct and the newfound acceptance of his blindness, it had slipped his mind. It had slipped his mind that Noct hadn’t been there to witness his sacrifice– hadn’t been conscious to see it.

“… ah.” He tilted his head down towards Noct. “So you know.”

“I thought, maybe, back when I put it on in Zegnautus… but thought I was feeling things. Imagining feeling things. But it was remnants of you. It wasn’t until the Six showed me in Reflection I knew for sure.”

He nodded slowly. It wasn’t something he was ashamed of having done, then or now, but it was a conversation he had never expected to have.

“I’d say you shouldn’t have done that,” Noct said shortly, “but you did. And you saved my life. So… thank you… Iggy.”

Oh. He _had_ grown. Ignis was _achingly_ proud of him; the Chosen King, returned, hardened but wise and kind. A firm but fair leader. The light for this world. Ignis wanted to slide from the bed and fall to his knees in front of him, subservient in each way he deserved. His king. “I would do it all again.”

“Yeah…” Noct huffed a laugh and curled in. “You won’t have to. After we return the light to the world, you won’t have to make sacrifices for me again. Ever.” The last part was lower, softer, and, oh, he knew his prophecy now, too. Of course he did. No doubt the gods would have finally shared their burdens when Noct had no other choice but to accept them.

Ignis held him tighter, and dropped a kiss into his hair. “I know the prophecy, Noct,” he whispered, and felt the body curled into his stiffen in surprise.

“… of course.” Noct gave a short, wry laugh. “Of course you do. How?”

“Umbra,” he explained. “I saw the future in dreams. I saw us, the four of us, together again. I saw you die on the throne.” Noct shifted uncomfortably; Ignis tightened his hold around him, tangling arms and legs to prevent him moving away. “I won’t allow it to happen,” he added. “I won’t let them have you again.”

“Not sure you have a choice.”

“We always have a choice.” Noct wilted against him again, and Ignis continued. “Besides, you know if anyone can change the course of history, _we_ could do it through sheer bloody-minded willpower.”

Noctis huffed against his skin, turning to nose against the hollow of his throat. “True.”

He sounded like he didn’t believe him. Ignis didn’t mind. It wasn’t something he needed to prove yet. In time, yes. Soon, even. He had his contingencies, the plans held so close to his heart they would never make it to his lips. Thoughts of so long as Noctis having had _accepted_ his fate, even if Ignis didn’t allow him to carry it out, or how the old kings had accepted _him_ when he had put on the ring, and maybe they would accept him again. Thoughts of how it might not change a thing, but Ignis wouldn’t allow him to die without first exhausting his own other options, foolish as though they may be.

The world needed its king. Ignis’s true desire had always been to see him to the throne; he would not allow Noctis’s reign to end there. It was his beginning. Ignis refused to accept anything else.

For now, he changed the subject. “Need more blood, Noct?”

“No.” Another puff of hot breath against Ignis’s skin. “Okay, yeah, weirdly. Don’t know if it’s the Crystal, or the ring, or both now, but it’s pretty… pretty unmanageable, suddenly.”

“It _has_ been ten years.”

“Does that even count, though?”

“I don’t know.” He tilted his head back. “You can drink until I pass out, I don’t mind.”

_“Ignis.”_

“It’s happened before, there were no lasting effects.”

“… when?”

“When I was a donor.” He shifted to get more comfortable, smoothing a hand down Noctis’s spine to get him to relax again. It didn’t work. “Someone wasn’t careful. I’m told they were taken care of afterwards.”

“You–” Noctis made a face, something between anger and… infinite sadness. “This is all my fault,” he continued shortly. “I didn’t realize– all I did to you was get you addicted to something you never should have had to experience.”

“I _like_ it,” Ignis reminded.

“All addicts _like_ their habits, don’t they?”

He shook his head, a little. “No? It was never the same. It felt… wrong, on a level, when it wasn’t you. A guilty pleasure, but far less pleasure. But it was also good. It’s… difficult to explain, Noct, but rest assured I have no qualms when it’s with _you.”_

“I’m not going to drink until you pass out. I’ve taken too much already.”

Ignis hummed, and let the argument go. What he didn’t say is _I’d give it all to you;_ he doubted it was something that needed to be said at all, anymore.

He would make sure Noctis fed again properly before they faced Ardyn again, anyway. For now, he let Noct settle with his head on Ignis’s chest again, and let himself wrap him in a tight embrace. For now, he’d let himself hang on too tightly, all in preparation of letting go once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's so much more... so much more that's going on in Noct's head than one chapter written in Ignis's POV can ever express, but for now? his vampire instincts win out. Ignis is _his_ , after all
> 
> I'll be poking at stuff re this chapter in side stories, but until then... catching up to do.
> 
> I can't believe this story's almost over LOL


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home, sweet home

“A handsome sight.” He heard Noct suck in a breath of surprise, heard something heavy and metal drop and then be caught again in midair. Ignis frowned, drawing up words for startling him. “Apologies–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “I was– just thinking. And I didn’t think that you’d be ready yet–” He stopped. “Oh.”

Ignis tilted his head. “Hm?”

“That uniform. It looks, uh… good.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

He sounded so incredibly like the Noct of old, the younger Noct that he had grown up with– awkward, tongue-tied, impossibly adorable– that Ignis couldn’t help but smile. He wondered what the expression on his king’s face, but he liked to think it was filled with as much adoration as Ignis figured he had on his own face.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

Noctis huffed a breath, fingers returning to the task at hand. “You can’t even see me, Specs.”

“I don’t need to.” Ignis stepped forward, hands settling at his shoulder. The spaulder. Ah. “Let me.”

“Mm.” Perhaps what was telling was that Noct didn’t _argue_ , didn’t demand that he let him do it because he was more capable. Instead, he was silent, and from the way Ignis had startled him when he had walked in, he figured that he was probably in deep enough thought. He was putting on the king’s raiment, after all.

It was suddenly all very real.

The three of them as Kingsglaive, and Noctis as the king who would return light to their world. Their true callings, finally brought to fruition.

Ignis had never been more proud.

“Nearly there, Noct,” he said shortly, securing the strap across his chest. He followed the strap of leather with a finger to find the buckle. “We’ll retake what is rightfully yours.”

“Ours,” Noctis corrected, as though on reflex. He still sounded a little distant. Ignis couldn’t fault him. He was… nervous to return himself. “We’ll take back what’s ours.” He glanced back as Ignis smoothed out the cape. “We didn’t come this far to lose.”

“Not at all.” He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip his arms around Noctis’s waist. “We are with you, Noct.”

“I know.”

“You have all of us.” He passed a kiss against Noctis’s hair. “My king.”

Noct huffed a laugh, clasping his hands over top of Ignis’s. “My Kingsglaive. My Ignis.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.”

“My dear Ignis.”

His smile widened. He turned his face to Noctis’s neck to hide it.

 

He was at a disadvantage, not being able to see their city. It was a rare moment during the past ten years of revisiting the old bitterness of his blindness, but then, he supposed he didn’t need to see. All that mattered was that they were _home._

“Home, sweet home.”

“Yeah. At long last.”

“What we’ve been waiting for.”

“Sure is.”

“Are you with me?”

“Of course.”

“You bet.”

“Until the very end.”

“It’s time to finish this… once and for all.”

 

“What’s the state of the city, Noct?”

“It’s… not good.” Hesitation and muted anger in his tone. Ignis reached out to take his hand as their weapons disappeared back into the armiger. “But it’s better than it could be,” Noct continued. “Parts of it’s still standing, so that’s all that matters. You guys can rebuild the rest.”

“Yes.” He could tell enough through the way that the pavement had buckled and crumpled beneath his feet, the care he needed to take just to be able to assure he didn’t trip. He had acclimatized to a world of destruction, but this was a struggle, mentally and physically. “That we will. The _four_ of us,” he added sternly, and held onto Noctis’s hand tighter when his fingers seized around Ignis’s.

“Yeah…” He tensed at his side. “Ah, battle stations, we’ve got Nagarini, ten o'clock–”

“Aghhh, why’s it gotta be the snake lady?!” Prompto complained.

Noct pulled away. The familiar feel of the Crystal’s power thrummed though Ignis’s veins as he summoned his blades. “On me, you guys.”

“Always.”

The foes here were strong; curious that Kingsglaive had been here for so long and had yet to dispense the most terrible foes. Or perhaps… perhaps the foes had dispensed of them, although Ignis didn’t want to think of that. There had been little news from the faction in Insomnia right from the start. He had to believe that some of them still lived.

Noctis’s power had increased by leaps and bounds. What Kingsglaive didn’t have was the Ring of the Lucii at their disposal; it was stronger now than it had ever been, and Ignis could hear the whispers of it when Noct used it to eradicate the Nagarini outside of the subway station.

Stronger, and more terrifying. Ignis shivered, scrubbed his fingers against the inside of his palms. Turned for Noctis as Gladio laughed in the cooldown from battle.

“The four of us have come a long way.”

Noct almost laughed, and his hand found Ignis’s again. “You say as though we’ve already peaked.”

“We’ve got plenty more time to do that,” Ignis said aloud, and again shared a pointed look with their king.

“Yeah!” Prompto replied. “We’ve got ages for that! C’mon, we’re not _that_ old!”

“Speak for yourself,” Gladio muttered.

He wondered if their laughter sounded as nervous as it felt. He liked to think at least part of it was genuine.

 

“Marshal!”

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That was stupid,” Gladio grumbled.

“Yeah, well,” Cor rubbed at a wound beneath his jacket. “Not like I had much of a choice. They’re getting too close to our base.”

“Your base?”

Cor staggered, and Ignis caught him at his uninjured arm. “Are you certain you’ll be fine, Marsha– Cor?”

“I think I can take a few more hits than that, you know.”

“It’s not exactly a _little_ scratch,” Noct supplied, and Ignis’s frown deepened when he realized Noct could smell the extent of the injury because of the blood loss.

“Here,” Prompto said, “take a potion, at least.”

“I don’t need a potion.”

“We’ve got plenty!” Prompto protested. “We stocked up before we came out here, and besides, if you don’t have someone to feed off of, you won’t heal as fast–!”

Cor hesitated, and then heaved a exasperated sigh. “Alright, Prompto, hand it here.”

“Good!”

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself.” Noct again. “Or deprive yourself,” he added, and it sounded as though he were frowning, too. “Is a source of blood really so hard to find?”

“You needn’t concern yourself, Your Majesty.”

“I can _tell_ you haven’t fed. I need Cor Leonis at the top of his game, now more than ever.”

Ignis glanced between the two of them, and for a fleeting moment, he had to stifle a laugh.

“Are you _lecturing_ me, Majesty?” Cor asked. His voice was incredulous.

“Do you _need_ a lecture?”

_“Hardly.”_

Noctis snorted a laugh and clapped his hand onto Cor’s shoulder. “I’d offer, but that doesn’t really work well. Get yourself taken care of, though, alright?”

Cor likely ducked his head, going the direction of his voice. “Yes, Your Majesty. Now,” he continued, “if you’ll follow me, I’ve got something you need to see.”

Ignis supposed it was strange, listening to Noct give a speech to the remaining Kingsglaive. But then it wasn’t, either, something so natural about it that it was almost like breathing. It had him clenching a fist over his heart and bowing his head before he could draw in a breath of shuddering _pride._ It was strange, but natural, and _beautiful._ As always, Noct was beautiful.

When the glaive rallied around him, praising and sobbing, Ignis thought he might have had tears in his eyes himself. He kept them closed, hidden beneath his darkened lenses, and was safe from anyone who _couldn’t_ feel his emotion.

Noct already knew how proud he was of him, anyway.

 

“Tomorrow, we take back the Citadel.”

Ignis couldn’t sleep. He wanted to. He didn’t dare. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, and traced his fingers up along Noctis’s spine.

“This is the end,” Noct murmured, and Ignis’s hand stilled against his back.

“A _beginning,”_ he said firmly, as vehemently as he could without choking on the words. He had fought destiny once. He would do it again, and he couldn’t perceive the consequences of failing. He wouldn’t. He realized his thoughts sounded a bit of a broken record, but better him broken than Noct dissolving into nothingness.

“Yeah,” Noct said. Smiling. He sounded _honest._ “People will finally be able to leave their homes without fear of daemons or starscourge.”

“With the sunlight back, the earth will begin to prosper again,” Ignis pointed out. Things Noct would live to see. “It will take some time, but soon food supplies will be back up, and with that, all of our other necessities as well.”

“Gasoline,” Noct muttered. “If we can get oil production going and get the refineries back running, we’ll have more transportation to get out supplies. Chocobos can only travel so far so fast… we need cars, trains, ships…” He stopped, and must have realized Ignis was smiling. “What?”

“You sound like your father,” he said, lacing his fingers on his back.

“Oh, great. I used to _hate_ when he talked about stuff like this.” Noctis huffed, resting his chin on Ignis’s chest. “Guess I get it now, though. Not like I have much choice. I _have_ to worry it.”

“True.” He nosed along Noctis’s hair. “But it does make you sound like a king.”

“Guess I must be, then.” Noct huffed. “Look like one, sound like one,” he joked. “I’m _super_ qualified now.”

Ignis wasn’t joking when he responded. “You always have been.” He pressed a kiss into his hair.

He wanted to worship him. Now more than ever; to shower him in all of the affection he’d been holding in his body for ten years, to take him apart slowly and gently and with all of the love and respect he deserved. They had had their reunion. But they had been afforded privacy, here, ushered into a room of disused beds– a door that actually closed included. But here was Ignis holding the king as he sprawled across his chest as usual, making jokes about Noct’s ascendency instead.

It was a certain kind of bliss, in any case.

There was one thing, however.

“Blood, Noct.” He held up a wrist. The bruises on his neck were still aching from their… reunion.

“It’s not–”

“Yes,” he said firmly. As if he would let him go into the very last battle with Ardyn without blood, regardless of how much he had only just had. He had said the thirst had increased, anyway. “It is.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one who knows?” Noct murmured, mouthing along his wrist. Pausing over the many, faded scars there. Battle wounds, all battle wounds.

Ignis wouldn’t let him linger on them. He wiggled his fingers, pressed his skin more firmly into awaiting lips. “Not at all.”

“You don’t _have_ to feed me everyday, Iggy.”

“And yet that’s never stopped me before,” he joked lightly, and pressed a fingertip past Noctis’s lips to prick against a sharpened incisor. “Dinner is served.”

He got an eyeroll, he thought, and Noct took his wrist. “I won’t take much,” he said seriously. “I don’t know what we’re going to face tomorrow, but you need your strength, too.”

He acquiesced with an idle nod, and couldn’t help the hitch in his breath when Noct licked around the droplet of blood on his finger and sucked it further into his mouth. He wasn’t twenty-two any longer, but he may as well have been given the way Noctis could make him react.  Any time, any place.

It was worth it for the smile he felt the lips wrapped around his finger curve into, though. Of course it was.

“My _wrist,_ Noct,” he reminded, and wiggled his fingers again.

“I’m working on it,” came the grumbled, half amused reply. Another swipe of tongue against his fingertip, and then fangs scraping against his wrist. “I’m surprised, though, really.”

“About?”

“They don’t seem to mind I’m a vampire,” Noct said, and bit into his wrist.

He exhaled at the sting of pain, and then let his eyes flutter shut. “Of course not. They’ve waited ten years for you. They’ll go nowhere now, vampire or not.” He clenched his fist for blood flow, and rest his unoccupied hand back on Noctis’s shoulder. “It’d be ridiculous for them to.”

“You’re biased.”

“I’m really not.”

“You’ve changed.”

He opened his eyes. Had he changed? He knew he had at some level, but he liked to think he was same at the core. He had the same values, the same morals. The same driving force and inspiration behind it. He was still the king’s advisor.

“‘s not a bad thing.”

“You’re getting blood everywhere, Noct.” He could feel it running down his arm.

“Ah–” Noct pulled back, fangs slipping free. “Sorry. Should be better at this by now.” His tongue chased the rivulets of blood.

“Perhaps if you didn’t talk with your mouth full.”

Noct laughed, idle-minded, but otherwise fell silent as he put his full attention to the wound on Ignis’s arm.

“Do you think I’ve changed, truly?” Ignis asked eventually, once Noct had stopped the bleeding and curled up against his side instead. He wasn’t sleeping, though. He’d barely been sleeping at all since returning, so far as Ignis could tell. He didn’t really need to ask. He didn’t really think he wanted to hear.

“Mhmm. I mean, a little. You seem like you don’t care as much.”

Ignis frowned.

“No, just…” Noctis laughed a little, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Don’t freak out.”

“I was called aloof before,” he said. “What am I now, then?”

“You’re not _aloof._ Well, okay, maybe, a bit, back then, but it’s not that, they just didn’t know you. You’ve always done what’s right. But now it’s like you… don’t worry so much about if you’re coming across as proper anymore.”

“Are you saying I now lack decorum?” he asked dryly. He suspected it _wasn’t,_ but lowered inhibitions over the ten years had been something to adjust to. Noct was right. Propriety had always been a priority.

“No,” Noct laughed. “But you have changed. You just did what you had to do, right?” He pressed in closer, fingers slipping into Ignis’s hair. “Changed how you dealt with things. It’s kinda hot, actually.”

He turned his head. “Hot,” he repeated, eyebrows raised.

“Bad boy Ignis.”

He couldn’t help but splutter a laugh, nearly _shaking_ with mirth from the idea. “I don’t think in any universe is it possible for me to earn _that_ label, Noct.”

Noctis’s fingers tightened in his hair, enough to tilt his face the few centimeters necessary to kiss him. “Isn’t it?” he murmured.

Ignis melted into it, holding onto his laughter as he did. Taking how it felt to be happy and tucking it in close to his heart, next to the way the king’s body felt, tucked up against his.

  

The Citadel was long since disused, devoid of the bustle of life they had all known when they were younger, but it was still inexplicably the Citadel. There had been many moments in his life that had felt like coming home– this was that in its entirety. Home. His home. His and Noctis’s home.

At long last.

The path to the throne room was well tread; instinct would take him there even if sight or memory failed. _Noctis_ would take him there. He would lead all three of them there.

Together, they followed their king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to mention last chapter, but we are on the last few chapters here, folks. The last handful of words -- the resolution is coming, one way or another. ~~be like Ignis and pretend that you're ready for it~~ as for me, it's very bittersweet wheezes 
> 
> I won't say much else on it, but I'm eager to get to pick apart some background stuff that we don't get to see happening in this main story... before that, commissioning some fanart... vamp Noct's going nowhere yet, m'friends, and I'm hoping you don't either


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walk tall.

“Well… shall we, Noct?”

“Yeah, but…” Hesitation, _vulnerability._ “Ah. Hold on a sec. Prompto. Can I see your photos?”

Ignis turned his head towards the others.

“Um… y–yeah!”

“I just need one… to take with me.”

Recognition and understanding. Ignis lifted his chin and swallowed the lump in his throat. Battered and bruised from the fight with the Infernian and the old kings of yore, he thought Noctis’s preparation in the face of his own death would always be the thing that hurt the worst.

He did not let it show.

“O–Oh… yeah… I get it. Um… you can take whichever you like.”

Ignis moved in on instinct, following the sound of their footsteps and the press of companionship. He was useless for photos; hadn’t been able to see them for ten years. But the point was the same. He could remember every one of these memories. He liked to think he could, anyway. He cherished them all, all so deeply.

All they had had for ten years was memories, after all.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, sorting through photographs. The pass of fingers against gloss, flipping through new and dog-eared photos alike. They described some of them aloud and Ignis smiled warmly at the reminders. Part of him wanted to stand here, to keep going through these photos and never move on to what was awaiting them on the other side of the door, but that was a foolish notion. Everything came down to this _._

Noct eventually settled on a photograph of the four of them. Prompto described it in painstaking detail– it had been taken on the way out from the Glacial Grotto, when they had come out of the cave and been able to bask in the sunlight for the first time since being stuck there. Prompto with his arm around Noctis’s shoulders. Gladio making bunny ears behind him. Noct looking at the camera but with his head turned just so towards Ignis as well, and himself, bandages and all. The very first time he had let Noct feed from him willingly. He had been terrified. It had been so long ago.

Prompto said they all looked happy. He believed it. They _had_ been.

“Then, it’s settled. That’s the one? No backsies?”

“… yeah,” Noct said quietly, and Ignis reached forward to touch his arm only briefly.

They had lingered long enough.

And so their king hesitated no longer in turning to push open the doors to the throne room, to face whatever awaited there– Ignis didn’t ask what caused such a reaction from Prompto; he figured he didn’t need the visual, anyway. And perhaps it was because Ardyn’s voice rang out across the room, echoing in the wide expanse they knew so well.

The wind ruffled his hair, and Ignis turned defiantly to the direction Ardyn was located.

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck. The throne brings you here? It seats only one.”

“Off my chair, jester. The king sits there.”

Their king. The one and only. The Chosen. Only Noct could ascend to the throne, and only Noct could purge the world of its darkness.

“Oh, Noct… how I have waited for this. Longer than you could ever know. Tonight, the dreams of the blood royal… come to an end.”

“Spite’s all that’s kept him going,” Gladio muttered.

“Huh,” Prompto said. “Talk about a grudge.”

He raised his voice. “Ardyn sits the throne?”

“… not for long,” Noctis said. “This is _my_ ascension–”

Everything–

Nothing.

The next thing Ignis knew, he was waking up on the ground, Gladiolus and Prompto drowsy and confused at his side. Misplaced time _again_ – Careful calm exploded into the panic he had been withholding oh so carefully; he pushed himself up and spun for the throne, even though he was not granted the ability to see it.

“Where’s Noct??”

“Not… not here,” Gladio mumbled, And Ignis breathed a sigh of relief. His body wasn’t on the throne. He hadn’t faced his death yet. Ignis _refused–_ “Ardyn must have… done something to us. To keep us out of the fight… alright, Prompto?”

“Yeah… we need to… find him… outside, maybe? They couldn’t have fought in here…”

“Yeah… maybe…”

Ignis was the first one up, and out, blindly following instinct and the familiar pathways back down to the entrance of the Citadel. He had to find Noct before Noct could go to face his destiny. He had to be there to stop him.

“... Ignis.”

He nearly felt weak with relief at Noctis’s voice, quiet over the fall of rain against the pavement. “Majesty.”

“Prompto… Gladio…” Noct stopped next to them. “Are you guys… alright?”

“Nothing we couldn’t shake off.”

“What about you?”

“I’m fine.” His voice directed away, and Ignis followed the direction of it. “… Ardyn’s gone. He’s waiting in the beyond.”

The satisfaction didn’t have time to set in. They had accomplished their goal– _Noct_ has accomplished his goal– but the words were heavy, all honesty and duty, and Noct wouldn’t be coming back from the beyond if he went.

Ignis couldn’t allow him to, then.

“So, this is farewell.” He forced himself to say the words. His heartbeat was a death knell, and so was the absence of Noctis’s footfalls on the steps of the Citadel. Ignis closed his eyes. He supposed it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t fool anyone, anyway, and he wasn’t intending to try any longer.

“Yeah. Here we are,” Noct murmured.

“It’s all you.”

“No turning back now…”

Endless hesitation and silence, pulling Ignis’s nerves tighter. And then Noct spoke again, each word like a lament from his tongue. “Prompto… Gladio… Ignis…”

His eyes were lingering. Ignis could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on him. He thought he very near might falter under it. Contingencies and unbridled emotion were racing through him, and he was certain Noct could see through the facade. Perhaps. Even if he couldn't, he would surely _feel_ it.

Prompto shuffled at his side, and then ducked around the back. “We’ll give you guys a minute,” he said, like what was about to happen _wasn’t,_ and Ignis was both incredulous and envious of his strength. “C’mon, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.”

Their footsteps receded, and Ignis paused for only a moment longer before sprinting up the stairs that were separating him and Noct. He caught him about the shoulders, hands rising to frame his face in between them. He was exactly the same as the man he’d fallen in love with. A little older– thanks to the Crystal, Noct had theorized; he wouldn’t have physically aged ten years in that amount of time had he _not_ been asleep and under the press of the old god’s magic– but still and forever Noctis. His Noctis.

“My king,” he breathed, and he would do anything for him.

Ignis had faced his own mortality once before under the threat of Noctis’s impending death. Funny that he still feared the idea of dying, but it hadn’t changed over the past ten years. He would walk backwards into hell for him– no, he would walk _forwards_ into hell, and that, he suspected, was probably what he was about to do regardless.

With Ardyn’s corporeal form destroyed, all that was left was the tattered remains of his soul in the world beyond. The world that Noctis must die to enter and succeed in his task.

_The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid._

Yes, Noctis was the King of Kings. The Chosen. But once upon a time, ten years ago, Ignis had put on the Ring of the Lucii in his stead and he had been granted the power to wield it. Ignis had been accepted, for however brief of time, for whatever price. For a long, suspended moment, Ignis had been allowed to stare destiny in the face and tell it to _piss off._

And so, Ignis would bargain again.

His life for Noctis’s, as it always had been.

He reached to take Noctis’s hand. His fingers brushed against the ring, and Noctis pulled him in to kiss him.

It was desperate, and foolish. It had every chance of not working. But better that than nothing, better that than to let Noctis do this alone. Ignis would bargain, and for the first time in ten years, he would pray.

Regardless, this truly was farewell.

He didn’t notice that he was trembling until he did, pressing into Noctis’s solid weight. He would keep the tears at bay, at the very least. That he promised himself. There was time for that later, perhaps. He wouldn’t cry in front of him, not in front of his _king,_ so very willing to give his own life for the sake of his country’s. Ignis was so very proud.

Contingencies and unbridled emotion. Ignis kissed him harder, and lets his fingertips seek out the smooth edge of the ring once again.

Noctis’s hand caught his wrist. “No.”

He feigned innocence, tilting his head, and Noct curled his fingers securely around Ignis’s.

“I know what you’re planning, and no.”

He was waylaid, only momentarily. How could he… the mental bond? Was it more obvious on Noctis’s end, or was he using an otherwise dormant vampire ability on him? “How do you know?”

“I mean… I don’t, exactly,” Noct muttered. “But I know you’re planning something, to save me, and the only way you can do that is either through the old kings or the gods now. So you were planning to take the ring. Again.” A pause, and then, a little more shaky, “don’t know if I would have thought of it, Specs.”

“… well, I _have_ been your tactician for a reason,” he joked, weakly, and tried to shift his fingers. There wasn’t wiggle room; Noct was holding on so tightly.

“Who knew someone so smart could be so _stupid,”_ Noct joked back, and it was just as weak. Just for a moment, he didn’t sound like the King of Lucis.

Ignis swallowed. His plan was spiraling out of control, and so was he. “Noct, I…”

“No.”

“As Kingsglaive, I _cannot_ allow you to–”

“Your duty’s over,” Noct interrupted.

“My duty remains as long as you draw breath,” he said sharply.

“Then, as your king, I can command you to stay?”

“I–” He _could._ It wasn’t an order Ignis was keen to follow, either, however, one that he couldn’t be certain he could follow. Noctis had accepted it, Noctis had accepted his fate, but Noctis had always been _stronger_ than him– “… as your _friend,_ ” he continued softly, “I can’t allow you to go alone.”

“I’m not alone.” There was no visual evidence, but Ignis could tell he was smiling. “I’ve never been alone.” Noct lifted their hands. “I may not have you by my side.” He pressed his lips to Ignis’s palm, and lingered. “But I’ll always have you in my heart.”

He couldn’t speak. In the end, there were no words. Nothing was significant enough to say, and so he could only say…

“… Noctis. Please.”

Noct straightened up, releasing Ignis’s hand. He let it fall uselessly back to his side, and Noct spoke again. “I love you.”

He took a deep breath. Blinked away the tears in his eyes. He reached out for Noct again; his hand settled against something invisible instead, something that hadn’t been there moments prior, solid and unyielding. The panic bubbled up in his chest again and he pressed a little harder against the barrier now separating them. “Noct.”

“I won’t let you follow, Iggy.”

“Noctis–”

“Not this time.”

The Crystal had strengthened his vampire abilities, then. Funny. Give him the power when it ceased to matter. Actually, it wasn’t funny at all, and it didn’t surprise him at all, either.

He couldn’t breathe. And then the air rushed out of his lungs all at once, threatening to drag him down into somewhere he wouldn’t be able to claw his way out of. He allowed his hand to fall away from the barrier between them. Slowly, he curled it into a fist and folded his arm across his chest. “Your Majesty.” He bowed his head. And then continued, after a pause, collecting himself once again if only to see him off with a smile _._ No tears. “… as I’ve loved you.”

“And always will?” Noct asked. He suspected it was meant to be a joke. He suspected both of them could tell it wasn’t.

He had sworn himself to Noctis a lifetime ago. No matter the state of their position in life, it had always remained true. “Always,” he promised, and didn’t raise his head.

There was the sound of daemons behind them. The metallic clang of weapons summoned and the brush of the armiger being accessed. Ignis swallowed, and Noctis took two steps back.

“I leave it to you. Walk tall… my friends.”

When Noctis ascended the stairs, Ignis expected he wouldn’t look back. Accepting the consequences and never looking back. Regis had told him that, once.

Regis would be proud of his son, of that he had no doubt.

… Ignis was, too.

“The time has come.”

He lifted his chin and turned around. Called his daggers to his hands and stepped away from the stairs.

There wasn’t much time left, but they had to make Noctis proud, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i get messy every time i reread this chapter LOL


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunrise

When Noct was fifteen, they went camping for the first time. 

Well, to be painfully honest, their first camping trips had been when Noct was much younger, the staff pitching a small tent in the garden and allowing the two boys to stay out overnight and watch the stars. All with adult supervision, of course, ready to assist at their every want and need. Noct had fallen asleep in his arms and Ignis had held onto him even after he had maneuvered them both into their tent, afraid to disturb the young sleeping prince.

Those had happened a few more times, their garden camping trips. Noct was ever a inquisitive child, full of boundless curiosity and a penchant for making Ignis worry even then. Noct had snuck away from the tent one occasion, ostensibly to explore the gardens at night as though he hadn’t before. All Ignis knew was that he woke up, alone, and the prince was gone and he was  _ panicking. _ All thoughts that they were still inside the Citadel itself fled. He’d gone through the gardens, breathing hard and lips trembling, until Noct had popped out of hiding like he thought it was some game they were playing. Ignis had  _ yelled _ at him afterwards, scared and anxious and angry and relieved in turns.

He’d made the young prince cry that night. Predictably– upset and overly tired– Ignis had made himself cry not a whole fifteen seconds later.

He’d always  _ hated _ seeing him upset. Especially if he was the cause.

Neither of them had felt like going back to their little makeshift tent that night, but Noct hadn’t wanted to go back to his room, either. Ignis had mumbled that they could go back to his room, smaller, more unassuming,  _ boring– _ filled with books and other things Noct didn’t like– and the prince had quickly agreed.

He’d wanted to  _ “stay with Iggy,” _ he’d said. It would be fine, so long as he got to stay with Iggy.

So they’d gone back to his room and curled up together in Ignis’s bed. It was much smaller than Noctis’s, but they’d both been so rattled that that hadn’t been the only reason they’d held onto each other as they slept.

Most of their  _ excursions _ went much smoother, though, excluding a poison ivy plant or two. And so, when Noct turned fifteen, he and Ignis had been permitted to leave the walls of Insomnia to camp  _ properly _ . Underneath a wide open sky free of city life… the stars had been theirs that night.

Even if it had only been just on the outskirts of the city, at the edge of the forest nearby in Cavaugh, it had been enough for them. Ignis had worried endlessly; it wasn’t the first time he and the prince had been permitted to do things on their own, of course, but this was the prince, outside of the city, in his charge all during the night and morning.  _ Only _ his charge. What if he got injured? What if he got scared? What if he tried to talk him into doing something they shouldn’t– because the gods knew Ignis would do whatever Noct bid, if only to make certain he wouldn’t do it alone. What if something attacked them? What if someone kidnapped them? Mostly baseless concerns, but one thought about that when you were advisor to the future king. It was something you worried about for your  _ friends _ , anyway, future king or not.

While Ignis had known,  _ surely, _ someone was always nearby even if they didn’t know of their presence, he had taken it upon himself to make sure Noctis wanted for nothing. As always.

He could remember, quite clearly, Noct telling him to  _ chill out _ when his fretting had gotten too overbearing. How he had picked up on his anxiety and told him he didn’t need to worry because he knew he’d always take care of him. It had settled Ignis’s mind, a little. The press of Noctis’s warm weight falling asleep against his shoulder later that night had even more. He had smiled as he’d tucked a blanket around the prince once they were in the tent. Told him he was there if he needed him, and shook his head fondly when Noct garbled some drowsy nonsense back at him.

It had been a beautiful night.

And then, it had been a beautiful morning. 

Ignis had barely slept, keeping a weather eye open for any signs of danger. And he was still awake before the sun rose, had the pleasure of experiencing it without the press of Insomnia around him. In the moment, he had been so taken in that he hadn’t been able to help himself; he’d woken a resistant Noct in a hurry and all but taken his hand to coax him out of the tent to witness the dawn.

The prince, being the prince, had complained about the early morning on their days off. And then he had all but marveled at the sunrise himself, tired eyes reflecting the color staining across the sky. A quiet sense of admiration, Ignis had remembered thinking, and he had been torn between watching the sunrise and watching Noct.

_ “It’s warm,” _ Noct had said, and he’d slumped over to put his head on Ignis’s shoulder again. The blanket was still around his shoulders. His hair was tousled, always at his best in the morning, they joked. He’d angled his face towards the sun, and smiled.  _ “It feels nice,” _ he’d said.

Ignis could feel the sun against his skin for the first time in ten years, and it was simultaneously the most wondrous and most terrible thing he had ever felt in his life.

He had known, known the exact moment when Regis drove the final blow through. He had, like so many years ago, felt their inexplicable bond snap. It  _ hurt. _ The same physical pain as before, agony and terror they hadn’t been permitted to see flash-burning through his body. The tears had fallen then. They were still falling now.

All three of them had known when the armiger faded. It had taken mere seconds after Ignis’s initial feeling. First the feeling of Noct thrumming through his veins, and then the Crystal’s power disappearing from their fingertips. Ignis was left with one dagger, the other stuck forever in the arsenal, and no potions. He supposed it didn’t matter. Their fight was over.

It was all over.

Everything he had ever known, his duty and his life. He was suddenly faced with the very painful reality that he had never known anything  _ asides _ Noctis, not even in those ten years, and he would never know him again. How did he recover from that? How did he go on from that?

He would, of course. He would. Noctis had only just given his life to save Ignis’s, to save Ignis’s and Gladio’s and Prompto’s, and every single person’s who was still left in this kingdom and the ones beyond. He didn’t intend to take it for granted. He  _ wouldn’t _ take it for granted.

… it did beg the question, however: how? How, how, how how  _ how– _

His dagger went flying from his grip, the blow from a daemon sending him flying off balance. His distraction leading to injury; a cry of his name from both of his bruised companions but he could already feel the rays beaming down on them growing stronger still, and moments later, even as he threw his arm up to protect himself from potential injury, the groan and hiss of the sunlight destroying the daemon before him.

“Iggy–”

“It’s not severe.” The words were automatic, unthinking. He had meant to say  _ I’m fine. _ The words hadn’t come out, but at least the physical injury left by the daemon truly wasn’t severe. 

He wondered if he’d ever be able to truthfully say he was fine again. He supposed that was being melodramatic, a thing he would have chastised the prince for had Noct said it to him. But then he supposed such was grieving,  _ true _ grieving, without the promise of once again seeing him one day. Anger. Bitterness. Loneliness. He would allow himself to feel them, and then he would move on. Eventually. He had to. He had to try. For Noct.

He was exhausted and aching. With the king’s given power gone from his body; he hadn’t understood the extent of it until now, that energy and strength, now that it was gone. He felt…  _ incomplete. _ And in pain. So much pain. But the important thing was that the daemon hadn’t severely injured him. That was what mattered. That, and trying not to choke over his own tears.

Clumsily, he reached up to pull his glasses from his face. Sweat and filth and tears. He wondered if the others were crying too. He knew that they were, even before he caught Prompto’s little gasping breaths and Gladio’s resolute,  _ too steady, _ breathing.

He couldn’t stand. It wasn’t the physical injury. Something much, much worse. Yes, he was already feeling it. Feeling everything. 

Prompto was quick to fold down next to his side. Or maybe he collapsed to his knees as Ignis did. “It’s beautiful,” he said, and Ignis couldn’t swallow back a wet laugh.

“Is it?” he asked, even if he already knew the answer. How many times had he watched the sunrise from the Citadel? How many times had he watched it set on it, too? It was a stunning sight.

Everything they had ever worked for. Everything Noctis had given it all for.

“A photo,” Ignis murmured, reaching for Prompto’s arm. “Prompto–”

It wasn’t anything they were like to forget, but it wasn’t precisely the point.

“Y–Yeah, I’m… I’m on it…!”

“… he finally did it,” Gladiolus said, behind him. 

Ignis turned his head. “There was never any doubt.”

“No.” Gladio paused, and then continued weakly. “Doubted if he’d ever be able to keep his fangs out of your neck, but not about this… knew he’d get it eventually.”

Another laugh bubbled up from numb lips. “He’s been stubborn, through and through.”

“Heh, yeah, that’s our Noct.”

“Yes…” Ignis turned back to the sunlight, letting his glasses clatter to the ground. “That’s my Noct,” he murmured.

Gladio folded down beside him, an arm around his shoulders and around Prompto’s too, pulling them both in and Ignis let himself lean into it. Let his head slump against Gladio’s and let the tears continue to slide down his cheeks, and would let the sunlight warm his skin until they could find it in themselves to move.

There was no rush. Not anymore.

 

He ought to not have been surprised to find Noctis’s body missing from the throne. He had seen in all of his visions their king’s being dissolving to nothing, watched the remains of the Chosen King vanish before his eyes. But somehow, he had expected a body to be left on the throne.

Perhaps it had been a fool’s wish. Perhaps it was better this way, that their last true memory of him would be the regal king standing atop the stairs of his Citadel. Ignis thought it was fitting, almost as much as he thought  _ of course _ the gods wouldn’t even  _ allow _ Noct a proper burial.

But he could only digress, now.

Truly, it didn’t matter. 

Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T________________________________________________________T


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months

“Mr. Scientia!”

The shout made him flinch, slamming his hand into the underside of the drawer. Pain jerked through his nerves and he bit off a curse that went unheard as the door was flung open.

“Mr. Scientia–”

“I thought I said I _wasn’t_ to be disturbed,” he interrupted, rubbing the scrape. It wasn’t bleeding– a minor miracle, given the jolt of agony that had come with the accidental injury. If that perhaps made him more cross than usual, well… he _had_ requested solitude. Something hard won, these days.

“Yes, my apologies, but your presence is urgently requested–”

Ignis sighed. “What’s in dire straits now?” Somehow, he had become the person to call for help, no matter the situation. Whether it ranged from enemy territory to one memorable grease fire at a residence down the street, he always seemed to be first on their list of people to call.

Gladio said it was because he was too nice. Lately, he’d been beginning to believe him.

It wasn’t that he minded helping out, but he had his own things to do. Mostly tactical support and relocation efforts, but in his free time… he was helping to draft a set of blueprints. Blueprints for a potential upcoming restaurant. His, as it were. With Eos stabilizing once again, businesses were able to find a footing. With his need to stay busy and repeated nudges from his friends, opening a restaurant seemed almost _logical._

“There’s been a vampire attack, sir.”

The surprise of the statement made him pause. It wasn’t often they’d had vampire attacks nearby. Especially not lately… and then he had to remind himself that it didn’t matter to him– it was no longer his job. “Ah. You’ll be looking for Gladio, then–”

“No, Mr. Scientia, they’ve requested you.”

“And I’m quite certain all of the association remembers my handing in my resignation following the resurgence of the dawn,” he interrupted smoothly. He had done what he’d had to in the ten years of darkness. No more. He had made that clear very quickly.

“They say it looks like the king!” the page blurted, and Ignis stilled with his hands reaching for his paperwork. “That’s why they want _you!”_

Shock and horror froze him to the spot. It had been weeks, weeks and weeks, _months,_ even, although it was still difficult to keep track of time even with the daily sunrise and set. And then he immediately pushed that thought away, letting it be replaced with the old memory of Eden in that bleeder den, when they had taken on Noctis’s face and body. Illusions. A likely scenario, but the idea that someone was masquerading as their fallen king had him on his feet perhaps the quickest. There was fire in his veins at the very idea.

Noct had been right. The ten years had made him… well, even he didn’t have a word. He was still the same old Ignis, he supposed, with his so-called chivalry and dedicated morals, but… especially after Noctis’s death, he thought he had started to become more… short-tempered.

Not the best thing for a man who hunted no longer, but Ignis found he could work it off in training, whether alone or with the newest faces training for city guard. The same coping mechanism back when he and Noct had been younger, he thought wryly. At least _some_ things hadn’t changed.

“Lead the way,” he said seriously, falling into practiced step behind the boy.

 

“Have the others been alerted?” he asked, raising his voice above the hurried crunch of gravel under their feet. “Prompto and Gladio, Iris, even?” With the recent dwindling of attacks, both daemon and vampire alike, he had no reason to keep up with necessary training required for fighting vampires. He let the responsibility fall to someone else, and if things took a turn for the worst here, he would be sorely overmatched on top of emotionally compromised.

_Not_ to say he was defenseless. He _could_ still fight with his normal training level, and that asides, he was never without _protection_ , he thought wryly, fingers dropping to pass against the metal buckle of his belt. Doctored, all of it– the buckle was in its entirety a blade, a throwing knife of sorts. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Or… under his belt, he supposed. Delightful.

“Yes! And the Marshal’s on his way now, he said he’s just outside town!”

“Oh?”

“There’s a few members of former Kingsglaive here, too, but they can’t get it under control, so we called the Marshal.”

Ignis nodded, raising his chin towards the commotion nearby. “I’m assuming the townspeople have already been evacuated from the– from the– the–”

It was curious, truly, being hit with emotions strong enough that they could make him tongue-tied. After everything they had been through, Ignis would have thought he had experienced it all. At least a fair amount of it. But he was continually proven wrong, just now, when _something_ indescribable washed over him, draping over him like a blanket so warm and familiar that stopped his mind and heart and the very words on his tongue. Something he couldn’t place so very deep in his chest, and the snarling from nearby stopped. The rustle and shift of the former glaive with their weapons shifted uneasily, and something fell away from Ignis’s mind. The fog cleared. The key turned in the lock. He was still frozen to the spot.

It wasn’t anything he had ever felt before. It wasn’t his bond as advisor to the throne– there was no press of the power of kings, no hum of the Crystal's power awaiting their commands. It wasn’t his bond as familiar to a vampire– he knew intimately how that felt, and it wasn’t anything of the sort.

And yet…

Uncertainty. Insecurity. “Noct?” The whisper fell from parted lips, and Ignis looked towards where the growling had stopped.

It wasn’t the same as before, not the same as before their journey or before the long night or even after the king’s return. But there was only one person who had ever made him _feel_ in ways he couldn’t explain. There was only one person who could garner such a reaction from him.

“Noctis…”

“It’s not–”

“– he’s not–!”

“It _can’t_ be!”

He tilted his head, awaiting their vampire’s reaction. An illusion was of face and voice; mind continued to be sacred and even if a vampire could manipulate that kind of thing, it wouldn’t hold a candle to _this._

He’d know Noct. He’d know his Noctis.

Only he could be trusted with that task and he _knew–_ somehow– he wasn’t sure how or when or why now–

“Noctis,” he said again, stepping forward. He waved off the guard’s cries of alarm, holding up a hand to stop them from converging on either him or the king.

“Ignis, it’s not–”

“Noct.” He didn’t bother to respond to the others. He was still talking to Noct, still looking in his direction. He wondered what he was looking _at_. Was he still as he had left them? The thirty year old Ignis had seen visions of? Or perhaps he’d gone more feral, going by the rumbling growl that had only just ceased moments prior. Had his… death, in whatever form, changed him at all? Or was he his same old Noctis, his king, his best friend, his bond and his soul?

“Noct.” He was close enough to feel the cold radiating from his skin. He thought he frowned. The king had always run cool, but never like this. Was this his vampirism at work? Was his vampirism the reason Ignis could stand in front of him today? “Noct.” He held out his hand to him. There were so many questions. The prophecy had been fulfilled, hadn’t it? Ardyn was dead, wasn’t he? But Noct was alive. Noct was here, in front of him, fingers just near to stroke his face, feel his skin, warm him beneath an embrace and never let go. Noct was alive.

The only thing he could say was his name. “Noct. Noctis.” A mantra on his tongue, in his mind, like what felt like a lifetime ago already that they had greeted him again in Hammerhead. A plea, a prayer, a promise.

Ignis slipped his hand alongside Noctis’s cheek.

He was here. He was alive. Their Noct. His Noct.

There were fangs in his throat before Ignis knew what happened, too caught up in his thoughts and emotion. Hands on his shoulders, making him stagger from surprise and the pressure exerted from the touch. He fell hard, pleasure pain of being fed on sending frissions of feeling through his body. There were frantic cries around him, people moving forward.

Ignis threw up a hand to stop them. “Let him!” he ordered, and winced. It was a deep bite. “Don’t… don’t stop him…”

It was just pain. After all, what was that to him?

He’d given up feedings, cold turkey, after Noct had… died. The withdrawal had been hell, but he’d suffered through. No more reason to keep himself willing and eager to offer his blood. There was no one awaiting him, and he wasn’t waiting on anyone, either. So this was nearly similar to the very first bite again, white hot and searing into his skin. But there was still something there, still something his body and heart could remember, repeated feedings from both Noct and his other hosts throughout the years of darkness. Familiarity. There was no fear.

Only his surprise, and then bliss, and then nothing.

The darkness was ever unchanging beneath his eyelids, but the world still faded to white noise.

 

He came around slowly, groggy, certain he was still half dreaming. He _ached,_ and there was the faintest impression of bright light he could only just make out. Artificial, fluorescent. Ignis shifted, and groaned at the rush of pain that came. Not dreaming, then.

“Stay still.”

He groaned again at the command, at the terrible feeling running through his body. Like he’d been beaten half to death and found in a pool of his own blood. Probably– minus the beating– that wasn’t too far from the truth, he thought with a grimace, and raised a hand to the bandages on his throat. “Cor…” he greeted, and then continued with the important questions. Everything else was unimportant.  “Where is he…?”

“… he’s subdued.”

Ignis raised his head. He still felt too woozy. But _everything else was unimportant._ “What do you mean?”

“Stay _still,”_ Cor repeated, with just a touch of lecture Ignis was still inclined to listen to, even in these days. “He took a lot of blood. We couldn’t get him away.”

“Where is Noctis?” he demanded, even as he rest his head back on the pillow.

“He’s sleeping off a tranq.”

At that, he sat up so fast that his head truly did spin. He half slumped over, flinching at the feel of Cor’s hands against his arms, and still managed to splutter in disbelief. “You shot the king with a vampire tranquilizer?!”

“Sit back,” Cor retorted, and Ignis was compelled to listen, both from the pain and… something more to Cor’s tone. Actual command, perhaps. Ignis had no choice. “Noctis will be fine, in that sense.”

“In that sense?” he repeated. His voice wanted to be sharp, but he was truly in agony. In more ways than one.

“He’s… not himself, Ignis. You experienced that yourself.”

“He was just… he needed blood,” he explained tiredly. “Wherever the gods had him… of course he would be a little more unpredictable if he hasn't fed all this time…”

“We don’t know _where_ he’s been, or what he’s been through. That’s the fact of the matter. It’s a miracle that he has returned, but at what cost?”

“What are you saying?” he asked. He was so _tired_ , and he just wanted to see _Noct._

“If he has no humanity left in him, he is not truly our king.”

He still managed to bristle, at that implication. “He _does,”_ he spat, with as much vehemence as he could. It wasn’t much. “I know he does. He can fight whatever he’s gone through. I’ll help him… as I ever have.”

“He may not be the Noctis you knew,” Cor said. And it was just then that _he_ sounded tired, too. Ignis clenched his jaw, and Cor continued. “The prophecy demanded Noctis’s sacrifice, so how could he return unchanged?”

“Why are you so determined our Noct is gone?” Ignis asked quietly. _“You’re_ startling proof that some vampires do not change.”

“And I didn’t go buddy up with the Six,” Cor muttered, and then raised his voice. “But, to answer your question. I’m proof that vampires can retain their humanity. But I know what kind of struggle that is, on a daily basis. And that’s _without_ these extenuating circumstances, Ignis. I’ve seen too many vampires lost to themselves to not be skeptical.” The chair creaked. “I don’t want to think about it any more than you. He is our king. I… would lay down my life for him, if need be. But he willingly laid down his, too. To protect his kingdom. Attacking it now would defeat the purpose, and everything would be in vain.”

Ignis didn’t want to hear it. Part of him was still fifteen and internally _unruly–_ even if he had never had a rebellious phase, so to speak, it hadn’t stopped the _thoughts,_ sometimes. And there were _thoughts_ very much right now in his head, things he’d like to tell the Marshal about what he was saying.

But… what he was saying was the truth. It was cold and hard, the facts laid out with no explanation behind them that they were ever going to be able to get in this lifetime, unless Noct provided it himself. These were things Ignis didn’t want to hear. These were also probably the things that Ignis _needed_ to hear.

He wouldn’t think about a Noctis who had lost himself to the bloodlust. He couldn’t. Not now.

“I’ll talk him around,” he swore, and closed his eyes against the frustrated burn growing behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucked with yall and i have honestly been clawing to get these last couple chapters posted sips tea
> 
> bonus points to anyone who catches the teeny throwback i put in this chapter


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm retreating in covers and closing the curtains_   
>  _one thing's for certain..._   
>  _a year like this passes so strangely_   
>  _somewhere between_
> 
>  
> 
> _sorrow_  
>  _and_  
>  _bliss?_

“The transcripts for the two o’clock meeting, Your Majesty.”

“Thanks.”

Ignis paused, briefly turned over the tone of voice that had been used. He reached out, catching Noctis’s wrist as the king turned away. “Noct.”

“Oh, sorry, something else?”

He shook his head, but his suspicions were confirmed now. “You need to rest. Or…” Working his own tone into a question, he continued. “You need blood?”

Noct’s hesitation was all the answer he needed.

The past six months had been hard. Noctis’s return to the living once again not only startled him, and the king himself, but the rest of the kingdom with it. Too many people in grieving that were left in shock or, worse, terror– the truth remained that Noctis was and had been a vampire, but even they weren’t immortal. He should have died.

He hadn’t.

Cor had warned him that Noctis might not really be their Noctis, but it hadn’t been so. Ignis, when he was able, when he had recovered just enough from his blood loss, had gone to see him. There had been no resistance. No wild bloodlust or talking down needed; Noct was _Noct._ His Noct, alive and aware and terrified he’d hurt Ignis beyond repair. Ignis had barely been able to say he felt better than he had for a long, long time.

Even Noct didn’t know how he was back. A question he couldn’t answer himself; he said he remembered facing Ardyn in the realm beyond, remembered taking the king’s power and claiming it as his own on the throne to do so, and then… nothing. And then, waking up here, covered in blood and being told he’d attacked his advisor. He hadn’t even _remembered_ attacking him. Ignis was grateful for that.

And while he was grateful that Noctis was back, unharmed, with the prophecy broken if not necessarily fulfilled– Noct _had_ sacrificed himself willingly, so perhaps that was enough– not everyone was. It was to be expected. Fear and confusion turned to outrage and opposition. Two months on, an attempt had been made on Noctis’s life. A poor one, even, given Noctis’s capabilities as a vampire, but all the same. It had rattled Ignis more than he cared to admit.

Sometimes, now, even after six months, he still found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop. He found himself waiting for the gods to take Noct away again. After everything, they should be afforded a happy ending. Why was he so certain that they weren’t allowed one? The fear had subsided somewhat since the first few weeks of Noctis’s return, but it was still a nagging sensation always at the back of Ignis’s mind.

He ignored it.

There were no others with claim to the throne, however, and the Council made the argument that since Noctis was _here_ , clearly he _wasn’t_ dead, and only he would be suited for being king. As if there were any other alternatives. As if they had even begun to formulate a plan for the throne while Noctis _had_ been gone.

His ascension was quick if not effortless, and Ignis was once again advisor to the throne.

“I… this shouldn’t be so hard,” Noct muttered, looking away. “I’ve been back six months, I should–”

“Nonsense,” Ignis interrupted, dropping Noctis’s wrist if only to begin rolling up the sleeve of his own Kingsglaive uniform.

“I was never this thirsty _before_ , not since I was newly turned.” Ignis could nearly hear the face the king was making. “Maybe not even then.”

“Things have changed, Noct,” he said patiently. It was a conversation they had had before, but Ignis was always willing to give whatever Noct needed, if he could. “We may not still have answers for what happened, but we can’t expect to get away without _something_ being different. You’ve been… revamped, as it were,” he joked, and held out his wrist.

“Oh my God,” Noct groaned. “If the Council could hear you now…”

“I’d probably drive them batty.”

“Are you… is that–”

“In fact, they’d probably think my jokes positively suck.”

“Oh my _God.”_ Noct laughed, breath warm against Ignis’s wrist. “I’m gonna bite you for that one.”

“By all means, I’m ready to be your necks victim.”

“I’m not even– you’re _impossible,”_ Noct laughed, and then his fangs nicked Ignis’s skin.

“Only for you, Noct,” he murmured, tilting his wrist more into the press of Noctis’s mouth. It had taken awhile to get used to this again; the pain and pleasure was like an old friend come home to visit, but he’d been _horribly_ sick after that initial attack. Back to the way things were before, venom tolerance back down. It had taken a few times even after that to have the edge come off afterwards; if he never felt the ill effects of venom again, it would still be too soon.

He was fine now, though. So was Noct, asides being a little more thirsty than usual. But then, the latter was running a kingdom now, surrounded by people and no escape from them every single day. Being king was taking its toll, and they were adjusting. That was all, he was certain.

He was alerted to footsteps the same moment Noct was, felt the apprehension and exhaustion flow from Noct to him like ice water. Ignis pursed his lips and again pressed his wrist closer. Whatever it was, could wait until Noctis had finished feeding.

“Your Majesty, we needed to… to…”

He recognized the voice; a new recruit to Crownsguard, younger, strong if not skittish. Startled to be walking up on the king of Lucis feeding, as though they ever tried to hide his vampirism. Quick bites like this happened all the time, when necessary. Awkward, at first, and then just… necessity. Noct still got uneasy about it– he could always feel it through the bond– but Ignis had long stopped caring.

(Offering a wrist in meetings or the halls was nothing. Clinical. Routine. Fangs in his neck and him gasping his king’s name came in late evening, fingers gripping the sheets and Noct and swearing his loyalty and love– _that_ was different. _That_ wasn’t meant for anyone else. Yes, they’d still been interrupted during those times, too, both to his irritation and humiliation.

Whatever crisis was unfolding usually seemed to be less important than the king glowering in the bedroom doorway, blood dripping down his chin. He was always so… _primal,_ in those moments, although Ignis never quite used that word out loud. He suspected Noct could feel he was thinking it nonetheless.

One memorable time there _had_ actually been an emergency, an attack on an outer village. Noct had gone down to council, still in the vestiges of his vampire state: pink eyes, fangs, scrubbing blood from his mouth. Ignis had followed after, a ruffled mess, and had let someone bandage the bites on his neck while he stood, expressionless, at Noctis’s shoulder. When the turmoil had died down, nobody had been able to look them in the eyes– and Gladio hadn’t let them live it down.)

Ignis cleared his throat. He felt the Crownguard’s gaze back on his face. “He can still hear you,” he said, urging them on. He absently clenched his fist for blood flow, silently urging Noct not to pull away until he was finished, either.

“R–Right!”

He thought he felt Noct smile against his wrist.

He didn’t miss a beat, his Noct, pulling away from Ignis’s wrist only when the member of Crownsguard finished speaking, retracting his fangs and wiping a speck of blood from beneath his lip to answer. Ignis listened without really listening, taking in the press of Noctis’s body language, and grinning on instinct when they were alone again.

 _“Why_ do they always show up when I’m feeding? Why??”

“An innate ability, I’m certain.”

Noct groaned, leaning into Ignis’s shoulder. “It’s not like I care, but they’re still _scared,”_ he grumbled. “Not like I blame them, either, but it just makes me want to feed _more.”_

“We can have a proper feeding later, if you’d like.”

“Oh?” _Oh,_ Ignis hadn’t intended to sound salacious on purpose, but he knew Noctis’s tone of voice with that little inquiry. “A proper, _private_ feeding?” Noct said, stretching up to kiss him.

He still tasted like copper, the metallic tang of blood on his lips and tongue as Noct deepened the kiss. Ignis made a slightly helpless noise, whisking the file folder of transcripts up to hold aloft in front of their faces.

 _“Private,”_ he stressed, and Noctis laughed.

“You regularly let me tap a vein in the halls but you’re still embarrassed to kiss me.”

“I’m not–” Ignis didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew he was; being _aloof,_ as Noct liked to call it aside, some things he preferred only the two of them witness. He never had been one for exhibitionism, had he?

And… their… _relationship…_ many did not look kindly upon that, either. Ignis had long ago given up his hesitance of accepting the title of being Noctis’s familiar, but many thought their relationship was based only on the mutual need of blood and a venom high. That Ignis was sleeping his way to the top, bedding the king in hopes for special treatment. There had even been talk he was trying to overthrow the monarchy, that Ignis was using Noct purely for his own benefit and seducing him with his blood along the way.

The latter was tabloid talk, but _talk_ coupled with the fact that the king showed no interest in taking a wife when a political marriage could help rebuild Insomnia meant that there were no shortage of rumors.

Not that it bothered Noct. Ignis tried not to let it bother himself.

“Just kidding, Specs,” Noct said, and pecked another kiss to his lips. Then he was pulling back, taking the folder from Ignis’s hand as he did. “Thanks. For all of it. I’ll try to get back to our room before you fall asleep, but don’t wait up if I’m late.” The tone of another weary, albeit uplifted, smile. “I have another meeting.”

Ignis nodded. Folded a hand across his chest and bowed his head, the corners of his lips still curved into a smile. “Your Majesty.”

Noctis’s laugh was soft, under his breath, and meant only for Ignis’s ears.

 

Their schedules so often meant there was little time to share between them; Noctis was awake in the evening, hard at work on letters, reports, and various documents, things Ignis would go over and leave notes on for when the king got the chance to go over. And Ignis, having grown accustomed to a more… _lax_ sleeping schedule, asleep earlier and awake later when he wasn’t tasked with his own workload to juggle. They usually passed at dawn, when Ignis was still bleary from waking and Noct was dragging for falling asleep. Brief kisses and even more brief conversation on their busiest of days.

It didn’t matter. They could _feel,_ if not converse, in the press of their shared bond buried beneath their skin, in their blood. He could feel every time Noct was stressed or hungry; Noct could feel every frustration and elation from Ignis. They truly needed words less now than they ever had… although more downtime wouldn’t go amiss, he thought wryly– on multiple occasions.

When things settled, they told themselves.

So the months went by, fraught with overexertion and complications, made easier by the fact that Ignis knew Noctis was waiting for him on either side of any given doorway in the Citadel. An elevator’s ride away, making them all proud.

And sometimes it was made _effortless_ when the downtime finally came, lazy days spent curled into each other with absentminded conversation and idle-minded bites and kisses.

“You know, provided I don’t drown in paperwork or suggestions the next week, I think I should be able to come up in the evening, every day.”

“I know,” Ignis said, not opening his eyes. “I’ve read our schedules.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t have something to do with that.”

“I may have… aligned some things,” Ignis admitted, catching Noctis’s fingers beneath his own. “For the sake of more of _this.”_

“Being lazy,” Noct clarified, and rest his chin on Ignis’s chest. “I like it. It suits us.”

It did. “It does,” he said aloud.

Noct’s fingers wiggled away, moving to swipe along Ignis’s jaw. “But you’ve _really_ got shave.”

He almost choked. “I haven’t even been out of bed yet, Noct,” he complained, lighthearted. Teasing. Laughter.

“I know, I just can’t _take_ it!”

 _“You_ need to shave,” Ignis retorted, teasing, lifting a hand to scrape fingernails through his king’s facial hair.

“You like it when I don’t.” The protest was halfhearted, full of laughter, too. Ignis thought this was bliss. “You said I look like I’m twenty when I don’t! Which you can’t even _see_ , so how do you know??”

He framed his face with both hands. “I can _feel,_ Majesty.”

“Yeah, I can feel too! No offense but I _really_ hate that stubble on you!”

An argument taunted over before. Ignis laughed into Noctis’s skin, nosed along the familiar presence and cold and smell of his skin. “You’re welcome to shave it off for me.”

“Maybe I will,” Noct said. He pressed a little closer. “But maybe later.”

“Later, he says.” It was a murmur, an open mouth kiss against his skin.

Noct stilled atop him again, half curling into his body. “A nap first.”

“Yes…” He slid his hands along his spine and settled them into the small of his back. “Just a small one.”

Noctis hummed, and Ignis thought he was already drifting off himself. It was too easy to relax like this.

A sharp bark startled them both back to full wakefulness; Ignis tightened his arms around him on reflex and Noct just _groaned._ “Umbraaaa…” There was the click of toenails against the hard floor and then the mattress rebounding under the weight of their small but mighty canine companion jumping up. “No, what did I tell you about getting on the bed?!”

Umbra barked twice, and flopped over to drop his head on Ignis’s hip.

“Erstwhile companion,” Ignis murmured, scratching Umbra’s head.

“Can’t even keep the messengers off the bed… thank God Gentiana didn’t go dog form…”

Ignis stifled a laugh, turning his face back into Noctis’s hair.

Sleep was fast approaching, and he knew the moment he fell into it because the world came back into color. He had been blessed with twenty-two years of sight; he still dreamt in color even if his memories of such things were skewed. Little things that he couldn’t remember what they were supposed to look like, substituted in his dreams. Not that he could tell the difference.

The constant was Noct– it was always ever Noct and he never had forgotten what he looked like. Dark hair, down to his shoulders now, blue eyes– pink eyes– pale skin. Draped in black silk and satin, embroidered gold and woven cords. _Majestic._

Sometimes, it was jeans and a t-shirt, a cap meant to keep his hair out of his face as they fished on a dock, clear blue water and a can of Ebony and laughter, warm like the sunshine. But those dreams were few and far between today– they hadn’t had much time for fishing since Noct’s return.

Mostly, he just dreamt of Noct as _king,_ because he _was_ king, and Ignis had never been more proud of anyone in his entire life.

Either way, Noct was Noct, and Ignis hummed a soft note of appreciation and went to join him in all his glory at the window. The gardens were beginning to thrive again. Flowers, hundreds of them, reds and pinks and yellows– blues, sylleblossoms, planted in Lunafreya and Ravus’s honor. Greenery and foliage as far as he could see, plants Noct had picked out that Ignis was certain he didn’t remember the name of. The light of day casting dark shadows along the ground as the sun set… the most beautiful sunset, red and pink and yellow like the flowers, and orange and the stray clouds casting the deepest colors of purple and blue between them.

He slipped his arms around Noctis’s waist, and Noct made a noise, turned to face him.

There wasn’t blood on Noctis’s face, not this time; it was eerily similar but _black,_ darker than the dark creeping across the garden. Black goo dripping from his mouth and eyes and nose and Ignis reeled back in horror– and recognition.

He’d seen that before, on Ardyn, during their confrontation, during all the visions he’d seen inside his head. The starscourge, the demons, and the toll they took on a human body, oozing from Noctis’s pale skin and golden eyes.

“Iggy?” Noct tilted his head. It was so uncannily like Ardyn, like the Accursed, the one who had started and with who it had ended– “What’s wrong?” Noct asked, voice low as he reached out a hand to him––

–– and Ignis woke with a start, eyes flying open to darkness and body jerking upright in bed, fingers clenched around the blankets… blankets… bed… silk sheets beneath his naked body… right… right. He was blind, here, in the real world, relying on sensation and duty and the fact that their king had returned unharmed to them when he ought not to have returned at all.

That had been a dream.

“Iggy?”

He flinched, head turning towards the voice. “Noct?” he rasped, and found he could barely raise his voice above a whisper.

He relaxed when it was inarguably Noctis’s voice that answered, laced heavy with concern as he made his way over to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

That had been a _terrible_ dream.

Ignis shook his head, forcing his hands to unclench from the sheets. He dragged his fingers through his hair and leaned forwards, closer to Noct. “Everything okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Noct passed his knuckles along Ignis’s cheek. “You’re as pale as me. You’re not sick, are you?” A hand against his forehead, and Ignis ground his teeth and leaned into it.

“No, Noct… just a bad dream.”

“Oh. Do you–”

“No,” Ignis interrupted. He didn’t mean for such _vehemence_ to come out through his tone, but he did _not_ want to talk about it. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Thank you, Noct, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Noct’s hand fell away, and then he leaned in to press a kiss against Ignis’s forehead. “Doesn’t get much better here, I guess, they need me downstairs.” Still, he lingered, steady breathing against Ignis’s bangs. He tried to match it. “You’re sure you’re okay…?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head up, catching his lips in a brief kiss. “Go. Impress me.”

A huffed laugh, and Noct pulled away. “Don’t I always?”

“Yes,” he agreed, halfhearted, mind still on the dream and the look on Noctis’s face. The scourge infecting him… He shuddered, and eased himself back down beneath the blankets. “I’ll be here if you need me…?”

“Yeah, go back to sleep. Just– oh, here.” He clicked his tongue. “Umbra, _c’mon_. Iggy just had a nightmare, that’s all. I think you scared him,” he said over his shoulder.

He was only half listening. “Oh.”

“Umbra, go see Iggy.”

Umbra hesitated, the sound of a hopeful tail hitting the floor as he sat. But the command rang true enough; he barked and jumped back up on the bed after a moment, curling up atop Noctis’s vacated pillow.

“Good boy. Keep him company while I’m working, okay?”

An agreeable bark. Ignis wrinkled his nose a bit at the dog breath in his face, and let reality continue to filter back into his consciousness. Umbra’s tail was still wagging, rhythmic, like the beat of his own heart. All those dreams… all those prophecies that had coincided with Umbra’s presence…

“… Ignis.”

He tilted his head away from the dog. “Sorry, Noct, I think I’m still half asleep.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” God, he was making him anxious. He needed him to _not_ look at him the way he certainly _was_. “I can stay…”

“No,” he said, gentle but firm. “Umbra’s here. And if I can’t relax, I’ll have a bath.” He made himself give what he hoped was a genuine smile. “I promise, Noct, I’m fine.”

“… alright.” He breathed out sharply, voice facing away. “God, I sound like you. Now I’m the workaholic _and_ the worrier. What’d you _do_ to me, Specs, we switched places.”

Stretching out in bed, Ignis feigned a yawn. “No idea what you’re talking about, Majesty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” At least _Noct_ was amused. “Be back soon.”

He bid farewell, waving a hand in dismissal as the king left their room. And then he let himself sag into the pillows, turning his head back towards Umbra. Those dreams, those prophecies, those premonitions… all brought on by the messengers of the gods, brought on by Umbra’s presence. A version of the future… Gentiana’s words still lingered with him. What had that _been?_

“Just bad dreams, boy…?” he murmured, combing his fingers through his fur. “Nothing more…”

Umbra whined, tucking his head against Ignis’s neck.

It was nothing. He was certain.

Ignis frowned, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ṫ̷̨̤̱͂͂̂͜t̵̝̐h̴̤̓e̴͇͂ ̴͓̍o̶̩̾l̷̤̋d̷͎̑ ̶̘̍ǵ̶͔o̵̼̍d̸̹͂s̴͇̋ ̴̙̃ḡ̵̪a̶̰͌v̸̧̇e̴͍͝ ̶̺̍ḧ̷̖i̸̘͛m̸̰͛ ̶̦͑b̸̖̕à̸͔c̸̳͆ǩ̷̥.̸̮̊ ̴͓b̵̰̓u̸͙͝t̸̼̍ ̶̱͂d̴̺̒o̴̱͠ ̶̺̚y̴̲̓ô̵͉u̵̩͌ ̸͚͆ȓ̸̨e̵̠̾ā̷̠l̷͖̄ḻ̷̔y̶̥̐ ̴̹̿w̴̩̃ä̴̺́ņ̵̛t̸͙́ ̴̡̈́ḣ̶̥i̷͓͆m̴͙̓?̵̳̚**  
>  __  
> a wrap, folks! I never intended to write Noct's... readjustment, as that wasn't the big "reveal"... and that would have meant a handful of more chapters, too xP this... turned into so much more than I ever thought it would be. it took a life of its own (as I severely underestimated how MUCH I needed to include from the main game, and how much I needed to include from my own au) and everyone's kindness and reactions kept me going when I got sluggish on it. so! thank you! so much! T_T
> 
> I am currently writing some oneshots from the series, as mentioned before, and there's a Fleurentia / Ignoct vamp au already on the horizon (a big hand to the commissioner on that one) so I hope you'll look for it. Maybe even this time, there'll be no scourge involved...


End file.
